


Strange How Hard It Rains Now

by hallucion



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kinda, Pseudo-Incest, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, What-If, actual umbrella academy, five didn't time travel, like a school, so they are all the same age, vanya doesn't grow up with the others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallucion/pseuds/hallucion
Summary: And so Vanya had played.And so Vanya got in.AU where Vanya grows up poor and separate from the others until she lands a scholarship at the Umbrella Academy. Of course, she hadn't banked on gaining 5 siblings, finding out she has powers, and whatever it is that she has going on with Five.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be like a parody of Ouran High School Host Club but I ended up diverging from that hella early. Young Vanya and Young Haruhi both had the same hair cut and I ran with it. In some of the chapters to be, you'll clearly see where I still took some subtle inspiration. I bet ya'll familiar with Ouran can guess who Five was supposed to be. 
> 
> Title came directly from Patty Griffin's "Rain."

Vanya was poor.

It was just an honest fact - a fact she was well aware of at a tender age. After her mother’s passing, her father tried his hardest to provide a stable life for her, but his job took him out of the city more often than not. Most of her preteen memories were of waving him off to another “mission” as he liked to call them, a sad smile haunting his face as he drove off in their old blue beater. His job paid enough for them to live in a small one bedroom apartment, but with no health insurance or benefits to call their own, any sickness or injury was money going straight into their accruing debt. Despite the lack of privacy and the never ending stress of worrying where her father would be next, Vanya wouldn’t trade her life for the world.

Vanya could only remember bits and pieces of her mother. She had been beautiful - Vanya remembered brushing her mother’s long hair, braiding it so it wouldn’t tangle while she tossed and turned in fitful bursts of sleep. Her voice had always been low and melodic, but the sickness had sapped even that from her. Towards the end, she couldn’t speak at all. To fill the silence, they had listened to the radio, Vanya gently humming along to the music on the classical station her mother favored. She could remember how her mother would smile at her and gently move her fingers along to the beat.

When she finally passed, Vanya inherited her violin.

Her father sacrificed everything for her. He worked long, hard hours at work, and then came home and raced Vanya to her lessons. She couldn’t remember a single time he complained about the cost. She could read the worry in his brow line, the exhaustion in his drooping eyes, the pain as he flexed his hands for the fifth time in as many minutes. But she admired how even through all of it, he had stuck to his guns and refused to let her drop the lessons.

“Vanya, you have something special. Something extraordinary. I’m not going to let you quit for me.”

The audition had been a complete fluke.

She’d been caught in an unexpected rain storm without an umbrella - an embarrassingly common occurrence - and she’d darted into a nearby store, taking shelter. As she tried not to loiter too long, her pockets empty of any spare change to grab even a can of soda, she caught sight of the flyers tacked up on the cork board by the entrance. Smack dab in the middle, a flyer for students to apply for a placement in the Umbrella Academy, the most prestigious school in the country! The only thing she heard had been the sound of her own beating heart, and she’d booked it home, not even noticing the sudden and abrupt stop of the heavy downpour she had been hiding from in the first place.

It took three rounds of applications to get in. The first, submitting her academic records, the second an essay detailing what was special about her and why she deserved to be admitted on scholarship. After violin, her first love, writing came second nature to her, and she wrote what her English teacher described as the “most moving biography of our times.” The third, and easily the most bizarre round had been the talent portion. Vanya had never heard of a talent portion for a private school entrance application, but she wasn’t one to make judgments on such things. She had packed up her violin and off she went, without breathing a word of it to her father.

The audience consisted of a grizzled, gaunt man with a monocle and a mustache. His clothes reeked of wealth and power, and his expression reeked of annoyance, a grim frown as he had pawed through a leather-bound journal he had open in his lap. Beside him sat a younger woman, blonde hair in a careful updo, a placid smile upon her face. She had nodded at Vanya to start her piece when it became evident that her companion was distracted.

And so Vanya had played.

And so Vanya got in.

The acceptance letter came on a rare day her father had off from work. She fetched the mail for him, flicking through all the unpaid medical bills. When she got to the thick parchment envelope, she ripped it open, expecting some sort of condolences, and instead found herself with an overwhelming amount of paperwork that needed to be filled out before school started in late August.

Vanya had no words and so she had shoved the letter at her father, her lip quivering. He said her name, “Vanya?” and she just shook the packet at him. With a frown, he had taken it - but just as quickly he had stood up, saying, “Vanya!” again.

And so, poor, poor Vanya had been accepted into the Umbrella Academy.


	2. Meet the Hargreeves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I jus want to clarify that while I said this fic is inspired by Ouran, it won't be a retelling of Ouran. I'll be just nodding to Ouran and some of the funnier parts of it. Expect some of Kyoya's mannerisms in Five though, because I am weak.

Vanya heaved a long, heavy sigh as she rounded another wrong turn. Maybe she should have toured the campus over the summer, like her father suggested. It certainly would have saved her some of what little dignity she still possessed. She’d been late to her third class of the day, slinking into her seat at the back, red faced and ashamed as the teacher informed her that tardiness was not acceptable, especially for someone “of her means.” The other students had snickered at her as she bowed her head, wishing with a sense of whimsical fancy that she had grown out her bangs so she could hide behind them. Thankfully, the rest of her hair was long enough to shield her from the derision of her classmates and she stayed hidden for the rest of the class period. She hadn’t been late for any of her other classes.

She cursed under her breath as she met a dead end, and backtracked, narrowly missing knocking over a potted plant that had no business being in the middle of the hallway. The school’s unusual approach to decor left a bad taste in her mouth; when she had asked for directions to the music room, the upperclassmen loitering by the front steps pointed out which animal heads she needed to pass to get to where she was going. If she hadn’t noticed the menagerie of animal heads, furs, antlers and skeletons in some of the earlier buildings, she would have been mystified by the directions, but as she passed the last emu on her left, she found the wide, wooden double doors the student told her to be on the hunt for. He had gone to great lengths to detail the crest that emblazoned the doors. 

Finally! Vanya wasted not a second in opening the door and stepping into the room.

Just as quickly, she shrieked, ducking.

Was that...a knife? She looked from the knife embedded in the wall next to her head, to the room in front of her, still crouched defensively in case of more knives - knives! At a private school!

“Diego! What the hell?”

Vanya shuffled backwards as one of the occupants of the room stalked towards her with a purposeful stride. She fell on her butt, the straps of her violin case and school bag threatening to loosen itself from the protective position on her shoulder. As the figure loomed closer, Vanya muttered a prayer under her breath. If she died here, at least let her violin be returned to her father!

 “Are you okay? I’m like, so totally sorry for Diego’s behaviour. He isn’t house trained yet.”

Still on the floor, Vanya looked up and locked eyes with possibly the most gorgeous woman she’d ever met. With long black curly hair, unblemished skin, and a white toothed winning smile, she was a poster child for the wonders of puberty. Who was apologizing...for the knife? Vanya’s attention darted between her and the knife, her and the knife, feeling the emotional whiplash of a word problem that didn’t connect. The woman noticed - of course she would notice! - and giggled. Even her giggle was melodic!

“That’s a totally normal reaction by the way. Don’t feel too embarrassed,” the other girl said. She bent over and offered Vanya her hand. Vanya took it - noticing with some displeasure how small her own hand was - and the other girl hoisted her up with little effort. She shook Vanya’s hand with a smile. “I’m Allison, obviously. You must be Vanya!”

“Uhhhh….”. Way to go! “Yes, I’m Vanya?” She surreptitiously looked at herself to see if anything had her name on it, but she came up blank.

"Are you sure? You don’t seem certain of that fact,” Allison teased.

“Oh, um, yes, my name is Vanya!” Could she sound any more awkward? Could this day get any worse?

"Your clothes aren’t exactly up to regulation, Scholarship Student. Where did you get that sweater, the homeless shelter?”

“Diego!”

Vanya blinked stupidly as a boy - Diego - came to stand next to a fuming Allison, one hand resting on his hip, the other in front of him. He twirled a knife in his fingers and glared down his nose at her, a palpable sense of irritation radiating from his pungent scowl and furrowed brows. A thick scar cut from the side of his face up into his hairline before tapering out, another through his eyebrow. The small, petty side of her hoped he did it to himself on accident, given his propensity to throw knives at strangers and all. Which, what was that all about? With Allison no longer distracting her, caught up in an intense blow up argument with Diego about his “irredeemable rudeness”, Vanya’s gaze trailed to the knife imbedded in the door frame. She gulped. If he had thrown it just a few inches to her left…

She backed up as the duo’s voices rang, unconsciously bringing her hands up as if to placate them. They ignored her, but their bickering rose in volume. Maybe she should just write off practice for the day and head home. Keeping one eye on the action, she swept the room with her eyes for another door with the energy of a scampering mouse, but before she could locate one, she found herself jumping at the realization of another duo just a few feet from where she stood.

A dark haired boy sat ramrod straight on a red velvet chair, an open book splayed on his lap. When he met her gaze, he ducked his head, but didn’t resume reading. The boy across from him, brown curly hair bouncing with his movements, waved at her, yelling “Yohoo Scholarship Student! Over here!” When she didn’t move, he yelled louder and pointed to the open spot next to him on the couch. Unlike Diego, who she still couldn’t believe was _armed_ , neither of the two in the center of the room appeared dangerous. And with Allison and Diego still locked in an intense battle of wills in front of what Vanya could now see was the only exit, she figured she shouldn’t delay the inevitable. Whatever sort of weird hell she had stumbled upon was clearly embracing her with open arms.

With more than a little trepidation, she approached the two boys, stopping just short of the end of the couch. Like the rest of the school, the room was furnished with antiques, lots of reds and black, a few more animal heads hung up above the windows, their glass eyes staring down at them. The couch and surrounding chairs appeared to be unused in every way. She contemplated sitting down, since the space _had_ been offered to her, but the thought of being able to bolt on a moment’s notice was too comforting a position to relinquish. “Hello,” she said lowly, dropping her hands from the defensive position she had kept them to fidget with the straps of her bags.

The curly haired boy, undeterred by her nerves, sat up on his knees and leaned towards her. “I’m Klaus,” he said, a wicked smile playing on his face. He too, was way too attractive to be in the throes of puberty. He was lean and tall, much taller than her. “The quiet one over there is Ben. He says hi, by the way, he’s just shy,” he said in a faux whisper.

Ben rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. His cheeks were soft and round with stubborn baby fat, and his hair curled free from the gel in it but he had a quiet sort of likability to him that Vanya admired. He nodded at her, and turned to the side, his ears a bright red. She stifled a nervous laugh, unwilling to put him on the spot like Klaus.

“You’ve already met our dear siblings Diego and Allison,” Klaus said, pointing to the duo still blocking the exit. “Unfortunately for you, the whole set isn’t quite here yet.”

“The whole set?”

“Diego? Allison? What are you doing?!”

“Oops,” Klaus said, shrugging. Wait, were those hand tattoos? “Looks like everyone _is_ here actually!”

Vanya gripped her bags tighter. She knew she was short - it went without saying, everyone in the room towered over her - but she never felt quite as minuscule as when the newest addition to the room stepped in. If she had to guess, he was well over six feet tall already, and more muscular than any high schooler had the right to be. He inserted himself in between Diego and Allison, pushing them out of his way with just the tips of his fingers. No, she was not jealous!

“Are you morons done? I thought we were meeting here for an actual reason, not so you can bicker like toddlers.”

“Ah, little Number Five has graced us with his presence! Come here, meet Vanya!”

Number Five? That had to be a nickname, right? Vanya stood up straighter as perhaps the most uptight looking teenager she had ever seen sauntered towards them. Not a hair out of place on his perfectly gelled head, his uniform impeccably tailored to his body. He had to groom his eyebrows, right? No one had such perfect eyebrows naturally! He stood maybe half a foot taller than her, and he stood at full height as he came to an abrupt halt just a few inches from her. Vanya blinked at him, as he just stared at her, his head tilted like he was looking at a particularly puzzling piece of art.

Next to her, Klaus whistled lowly.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, with a bored sort of expression before saying, “I thought you would be taller.”

Vanya blushed.

“Five has that effect on people. Or you know, so I’ve been told,” Klaus quipped. He sunk back on to the couch with dramatic flair, raising his hand to his forehead in mock drama. Vanya could make out the “HELLO” tattooed on the center of his palm and wondered, not for the first time, what was wrong with this school and this group of ragtag siblings. “Five, meet Vanya. Vanya, this is our dearest brother Five. He’s a bit of a prick, but he’s our prick!”

Five scowled, and shoved his hands into his pockets. With his attention elsewhere, Vanya heaved a sigh of relief. “Are you actually drunk right now? It’s only the first day.”

“Nope! I am high though!”

Ben closed his book with a long suffering sigh. “They’ve stopped,” he muttered, so quietly Vanya almost couldn’t catch it.

The room suddenly fell silent, save for the footsteps of the three bickering students.

The tallest boy - she hadn’t caught his name yet - followed along behind the other two, who were glaring daggers at one another, unspoken threats volleying back and forth. There were no knives being thrown, however, which was a minor victory in Vanya’s eyes. He had a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them towards the center of the room where they gathered by the sitting area. Vanya envied the ease in which he directed them to the unoccupied chairs on either side of Ben. If she had half that strength...

With that situated, he turned and greeted Vanya. “Hello,” he said, coming over and thrusting his hand towards her. She took it, and then quickly regretted it - his hand encased hers. “My name is Luther. You must be Vanya.” He reminded her of an overgrown Labrador, his blonde hair and dimpled smile bringing a nervous smile to her own face 

“Uh, yes, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you. All of you! I’m very sorry for intruding, I didn’t know this room was occupied.”

Klaus snickered, while Diego rematerialized his knife from nowhere and spun it around his fingertips like a toy. Ben ran his finger down the spine of his now closed book, while Five leaned against the back of the couch. There was something almost predatory about his gaze...Vanya couldn’t figure it out, but the hair along the back of her neck rose. Six sets of eyes pinned her to her spot.

“You don’t know who we are, do you?”

“Who...you are?” Vanya furrowed her brow. Was this a trick question? Flashes of middle school trauma passed through her mind. Hazing must have gone out of style, right? “Didn’t you just introduce yourselves?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Diego! Would it hurt you to be nice for five seconds?”

“Yes, actually, it would, _sis_.”

“Wait, hold up.” Klaus held his hands in a t-shape. “You seriously don’t know who we are? Diego threw a knife at you, and you just walked into the room like nothing happened, but you don’t know _who we are_!”

“You threw a knife at her?” Luther turned to Diego, who smirked. He puffed out his chest, and pointed his knife at Luther.  

“What of it, Big Boy? Going to fight me?”

“I don’t understand,” Vanya finally said. She could feel the oncoming tension of a headache creeping up, and her muscles protested carting her bags around without reprieve. Diego and Luther continued to argue, but everyone else’s attention remained focused on her. She ducked her head so her hair curtained her from view. “I don’t understand any of this. I was told to come here today to practice my violin before music classes pick up tomorrow. I was told the room would be empty. I didn’t know any of you would be in here.”

“Whoever told you that lied to you. This building is off limits to students; it’s reserved for us.”

“‘Us?’” Vanya repeated back to her, feeling a bit like a humanized echo. The pounding in her head made focusing on the confusing nature of their conversation difficult.

“You know…’us?’” Klaus tried, pointing at all of them in turn, even Vanya. She shook her head. What the hell were they talking about? He cursed, quite colorfully and frowned, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “You don’t know, oh my God.”

“That son of a bitch didn’t even warn us!” Diego hissed, standing up. Vanya startled, but Luther threw a hand out and stopped Diego in his tracks.  

“Diego, enough,” Luther growled. “There has to be a rational reason for this.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t understand it,” Allison admitted. Ben nodded in agreement.  

 _I don’t know what is going on. They are all siblings...they’re saying I shouldn’t be here, but I was told this was where I was supposed to be..._ Vanya ran the facts over in her head as best she could with six people staring at her with varying levels of horror and indignation. This kind of attention hadn’t been focused on her on months and she quickly felt the familiar sensation of panic overtaking her thought process. She tried taking steadying breathes through her nostrils, but even that failed to calm her.

“I...I think I’m going to go now.” Vanya bowed. “It was nice to meet all of you!” Without seeing if they responded back, she darted towards the door. Surely she could make it without earning a knife in her back!

“Five? Little help here?”

“Fine, but you owe me.” 

Vanya skidded to a halt as a surge of blue light lit the room in front of her. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. In front of her, blocking her only exit to freedom from this bizarre chain of events, stood Five, hands shoved in his pockets once more. In another flash of light, he appeared just inches in front of her, freezing her to the spot. He offered her a cocky smirk, bending over so they were face to face, his warm breath caressing her lips. Despite all of the sensory input in her brain working overtime to make sense of the senseless, she remained fixated on him. “Welcome to the Umbrella Academy, Vanya.”


	3. The Headmaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Monocle enters

“That’s enough now, Number Five. You’re given Number Seven quite the fright, we don’t want the waif of a girl to faint now, do we?”   
  
Vanya jumped as the big wooden doors leading into the room, open till now, slammed shut with an exorbitant amount of force. She bumped into Five and he made a small “tch” sound before steadying her on her feet and backing out of her personal space. A blank, almost robotic like expression crossed his face as the newest distraction strode purposefully across the room, bumping a cane along with every step. 

“I see that the mole I planted was sufficient in guiding you here, Number Seven.” Vanya gasped, recognizing the man by his strikingly gaunt face. His three piece suit probably cost more than a year's worth of rent and the cane he carried probably more even than that. She swept into a hurried bow, muttering, “Headmaster!” 

“Up, up, we don’t have time for silly formalities, girl. The rest of you, line up!”

With a flurry of activity, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five and Ben filed one by one into a straight line. Though Five had been the furthest, Ben and Klaus left room for him to join in between them. All of them, Vanya noticed, adapted the same distant, emotionless facade Five had. All of them stared straight ahead, as the headmaster bore down on her. 

An eccentric billionaire, Vanya remembered reading in her research about the academy, with the personal manners of someone accustomed to using money as a fail safe. Despite numerous attempts to interview him over the years, he kept his name a secret from the press, relying only on his initials and a slew of pseudonyms to preserve his anonymity. His signature, a stylized rendition of a monocle, aided in creating an enigmatic character. 

Despite the secretive nature of the man, Vanya had come across only positive anecdotes about the man and his work. Teachers were suitably compensated, children of varied talents were grouped together to push past their limitations, and those that graduated did so with incredible outside contacts to further their learning and their careers.

Despite all of the praise for his work, Vanya struggled to separate the glowing reviews of him from the reality of the man in front of her. This close to him, she could see the details she had missed on their first meeting. He carried himself stiff and upright naturally; he did not seem to need a cane. Fine, delicate wrinkles ran the length of his forehead, while the thin lines of his mouth puckered. His cold, blue eyes, this close, reminded her of the dead fish the fishermen pulled up on to the docks. She wanted to recoil at how unfeeling and performative his speech sounded to her. How could she possibly reconcile the image of a charitable, beloved man with the closed off and arrogant bastard in front of her? 

Vanya gulped as the headmaster nudged her with his cane, the bottom of it twisting into the flesh of her shoulder. He kept it pointed at her even as she moved back. “In line now, Number Seven,” he said, without a trace of humor. She doubted he had ever laughed in his life! “What is said here is pertinent to your future at the Umbrella Academy. I think we can both agree it would be a shame if that were to be taken from you the very first day of classes?”

Overwhelmed, Vanya nodded, despite every nerve in her body tingling in alarm. When she had auditioned, the Headmaster had certainly shown her a great deal of attention, asking her in depth questions about her music, her educational background, even showing an interest in her family history. Despite what should have been a friendly line of questioning, his presence sparked a sort of instinctual anxiety in her, similar only to her reaction to Five. His unfeeling, calculating aura as he bombarded her with question after question had left her stuttering, struggling to produce answers quickly enough to stave off his impatience. Now, without the warm presence of the woman beside him to soften his harshness, she wilted, unable even to speak.

As she was guided - or pushed along, in this case - to stand next to Ben at the end of the line, that fear and anxiety returned tenfold. The crushing combination of fear and confusion left her floundering, hoping for something to ground her. She gripped the strap of her violin case, and gritted her teeth. 

The headmaster paced in front of them, his cane clasped in his hands behind him, the wooden heels of his dress shoes clacking on the uncarpeted wood floor. His signature monocle sometimes caught the light coming in through the large bay windows across the room. Despite what felt like a lifetime to her, the summer sunshine reminded her of the early hour. 

“I see you have already met Numbers One through Six. That has cut down on some explanations that will be made here today, Number Seven.” 

So Five wasn’t a nickname after all. 

“You are well aware of your mysterious origins, that much was clear when we discussed your history. Were you made privy to all of the facts surrounding your birth?” Vanya didn’t respond. He tapped his cane, and she shook her head, unable to find the strength to speak. Her haunting beginnings followed her like a ghost; so many what-if’s plagued her mind. “On October first, forty-three children were born to mothers who had not been pregnant at the start of the day. Sudden and spontaneous births, immaculate conception, the press called them. Unnatural, scientists called them. But I could see what the other’s couldn’t -  _ opportunity _ .” 

He paused in his rantings, and adjusted his monocle. Next to her, Ben shuffled, leaning his side every so gently against hers. She sagged against him, seeking any kind of warmth she could. Despite the thick woolen material of her sweater, she shivered. 

“Such remarkable beginnings spawned remarkable capabilities. Capabilities the likes of which the world had never seen before. Feats of super strength, the ability to curve any object thrown,  reality warping, conjuring the dead, spatial jumping, and the ability to summon a demon from a portal on one’s own body,” With each bullet point he went down the line of children, jabbing his cane in their direction. He ended with Ben, who trembled against her. “It would have been a disservice to allow them to grow up as regular children, when there was nothing regular about them. I was able to track down the children that survived the admittedly less than ideal birth conditions and adopted them, compensating their mothers for their sacrifice to humanity. Those children stand next to you now. They’ve been awaiting your arrival.” 

_ “I’m Allison, obviously. You must be Vanya!”” _

_ “I thought you would be taller.”  _

_ “Vanya, this is  _ **_our_ ** _ dearest brother Five.” _

_ “That son of a bitch didn’t even warn us!” _

“I could hardly believe my luck when you strolled into auditions. I attempted to purchase you, at the time of your birth, but your mother was of a particularly stubborn sort and refused my original offer. When I returned the second time to barter with her, she had already fled her family home in Russia and despite my best efforts, I could not locate the two of you. I spent a lot of time and money tracking you down, Number Seven.” He frowned at her, looking down at her as if she were beneath him. “It was clever, terribly clever, to modify your birth certificate, hold you back a year in school and move across the United States like some modern nomad. It threw me off the trail.” 

“And yet...you found me.” He adjusted his monocle, pausing in his pacing. “But then again, I suppose that is one reason I created the scholarship and advertised it the way I did. I had an inkling you would be unable to pass up such an opportunity, Number Seven. Your connection to music is far too great.”

**Number Seven, Number Seven, Number Seven** . Bile coated the back of her throat. Vanya, Vanya was her name! She wanted to scream it at the old man. Throw it in his face, just as casually as he talked about purchasing her like some common cow! But she stayed in line. She stayed silent. Years of keeping her emotions locked tightly inside battled with the fury rising inside of her at the audacity of this monster come to life. Her hearing narrowed - the sound of her heartbeat echoed, tattooing its rhythm upon her flesh. 

He continued on his narcissistic rant, uncaring about the discomfort he caused. “Indeed, I knew I would find you one day, complete the set. You are too valuable an asset to have roaming as a free agent. Your siblings have been in lessons since birth to harness their unique set of talents, and now that you are here, you are to join them.” 

Siblings. A childish wish that had never been granted to her, only to have thrust upon her now that she couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted less. These children were meant to be her siblings? Raised together since birth but unable to have a calm conversation? And the headmaster? A father figure? Her lip curled at the thought. 

“Your powers have always been of the utmost interest to me. Such capabilities! Strong defensive potential, limitless offensive skills. With your violin as your conductor, even with such little training, you have the natural talent to surpass your siblings.” 

_ I’m an only child. I have no powers. My name is Vanya! _

“And that father of yours couldn’t even be bothered to teach you how to control them. Instead, he let you roam around like a common street rat, looking for scraps of kindness from strangers -”

He stopped his tirade as the deafening sound of splintering glass shot through the room. They had no time to duck as the windows and every glass object around them shattered into millions of pieces, the fragments swept up into the rain storm raging outside. Vanya’s ears were left ringing, ringing, ringing, her heart beat so loud and insistent she couldn’t focus on anything else. She inhaled, loudly, and slumped to her knees, crumpling her fingers into a fist. 

Today, she was supposed to enter high school, free of debt and free to pursue violin lessons without the burden of cost looming over head. Today, she was meant to make at least a few friends for the first time in her life. Today, she was supposed to run home happy and excited, to regale her father with outlandishly hyperbolized stories and hear his gentle laugh in return.

She faintly registered the headmaster kneeling in front of her. Her chest heaved with the effort, but she had to, she had to look him in the eye. And she did. 

A fissure crack split the middle of his monocle. A thin line of blood dribbled down his face, but he seemed unaware of it. His dead, fish eyes were alive with a sort of misplaced pride that left Vanya sick to her stomach.

“See? You’re extraordinary, Number Seven.” 

_ “Vanya, you have something special. Something extraordinary.” _

“Welcome to the Umbrella Academy, Number Seven.” 


	4. A State of Disbelief

“I don’t believe it.”

“What do you mean, you ‘ _ don’t believe it _ ?’”

Vanya massaged her temples, wincing at Five’s accusatory, voice cracking tone. After the headmaster’s dismissal, she toddled over to the couch, slung her bags to the floor, and curled up in the fetal position, making herself as small as possible. Her headache felt like a jackhammer working overtime in her skull, pounding submission into her. The measly peanut butter sandwich she’d packed for lunch rolled in her stomach. Every inch of her skin felt lit with invisible fire. She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezed them hard enough, she could teleport out of the room and forget anything had ever happened.

The sounds in the room seemed amplified with the pain. The others, following her lead, gathered around her, their footsteps, even on the carpeting, loud and distracting.

“Five, cut her some slack, she just needs some time to digest it all. It’s a lot of information. We’ve had our whole lives to come to terms with what we are; she’s only had a couple of minutes.”

Five scoffed. “She’s going to have to come to terms with it real quick, Luther. Do you think Dad’s going to let her off this easily just because she’s  _ sensitive _ ? He’s going to ruin her if she lets him. She shattered the windows because of a childish insult, for christ’s sake.”

“Aww, are you perhaps trying to be a good big brother? Never thought I would see the day!” That was Klaus, Vanya could tell, in that sing song, carefree voice of his. If he was trying to cheer them up with that act, it certainly wasn’t working on her.

Someone lifted her feet up from the end of the couch with care, and then sat down, draping her legs over their lap with an almost fond tap that sent Vanya’s nerves in to hyper drive. She buried her face into the side of the couch. Just based on first impressions, she could guess who it was. “Looking out for our Number Seven’s mental wellbeing?”

“She’s not our little sister, you dolt. She doesn’t even know us.”

“Well, she is one of us still, even if we didn’t grow up together.”

“Gotta say, I agree with Five on this one.”

“Oh, we’re  _ so _  shocked that you sided against Luther.”

“Watch it sis.”

For siblings, they sure argued a lot. Vanya spent more nights than she was willing to admit hoping for a sibling, a boy or a girl, it didn’t matter. Just someone she could spend time with, read with, play with, share her music with. She’d always been jealous of the kids running in the park in pairs and had wanted it so desperately for herself, she had cried herself to sleep, smothered by her pillow and dreams that could never be granted. It seemed like this motley crew were much more adept at getting on one another’s nerves than playing nicely like the fantasy sibling of Vanya’s creations. Did they even  _ like _  one another?

“Vanya? Hey Vanya, do you want to go home?”

Was that...Ben? Vanya rolled over, finally opening her eyes. The taller boy crouched down, on eye level with her, and offered her a shy, wobbling smile. “You don’t have to stay here today. If we were training, he wouldn’t have left.”

Vanya blinked stupidly before realizing he was giving her an out. She kicked her legs over the couch - and knocked into Klaus’ knees - and found her bags, slinging them over her shoulder. The large bay windows taunted her from across the room, ugly and broken. The rain had swept the glass fragments away, but puddles of water gathered on the floor like buckets of tears. It was not possible that she had done that, but yet, it was the truth.

“She can’t walk home in this state,” Luther said, waving a hand at her, as if she couldn’t hear him. He spoke with the kind of authority that didn’t sit right with his age and his puppy dog face. “Someone has to bring her.”

Allison and Klaus chimed in their agreement, with Diego begrudgingly nodding along. Five remained silent, but Vanya felt his annoyance radiate her way. She could feel his presence as solidly and tangibly as any prey would their predator stalking them.

“Any volunteers?”

Vanya flinched when Klaus and Allison both offered their company on her walk home with forceful, enthusiastic shouts. Were they always that loud? They had certainly been quiet with their father in the room, unnaturally still, as if a single breath out of line would be cause for punishment. Her stomach rolled - maybe it had been cause for punishment.

A gentle jerk of her elbow brought her face to face with Ben. He held one finger to his mouth, and then pointed to the double doors and then back to them. She mouthed “okay” and he lead her around the couch, the two of them moving slowly and in synch, avoiding the chaos unfolding between the other siblings. She held her breath as they passed Five, but he just sneered and rolled his eyes, giving them the cold shoulder. Ben opened the door for her and slipped out after her when he verified that they would not be missed.

Vanya leaned against the opposite wall, her hand over her heart, head ducked down. “Thank you,” her voice cracked.

“I’ll walk home with you, if that’s alright with you. You don’t want any of them to walk with you.”

Her “okay,” was shaky, but he didn’t comment, and instead started forward.

Vanya followed Ben when she caught her breath. He moved with a learned ease, clearly comfortable with the nonsensical layout of the building, no second guessing which corner to take. But then again, they had grown up here - she’d been told as much. This was their home, as eccentric and wildly fantastic as it was.

“How is your head?”

“Excuse me?”

Ben hunched in on himself and Vanya felt a pang of regret for her tone. Out of everyone she’d met today, he’d tried to meet her where she was. His timidness reminded her so much of herself, two kindred spirits trying to make the most of the situation. Whatever feelings she may have towards the rest of his family and this whole messed up crisis, he didn’t deserve her lashing out at him. She muttered “sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

He stood a little straighter at that. “You keep uh, making this face, like you’re in pain? I figured it was a headache.” His voice lowered as he said, “most of us get them if we overexert ourselves.”

“Oh. It’s fine,” she lied, the pitch of her voice rising. He didn’t comment, but she had never been a convincing liar.

As they walked side by side through campus, silence blanketed the duo, with Vanya lost in thought. Without the distraction of Allison and Five and the others, it was a lot easier to try to sort out the veritable information overload she had been bombarded with.

Magical powers. An underground vigilante group of teenagers, equipped with abilities like spatial jumping, super strength, raising the dead. All seven of them, born at the exact same time, spanning thousands and thousands of miles, born to mothers who had not been pregnant at the beginning of the day. All but one of them purchased like livestock and raised in extravagant wealth with a clear lack of warmth and love. A life she would have lead, had her mother sold her, had her father abandoned her. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she wiped at them, thankful that Ben, at the least, had the decency to give her her privacy. She sniffled, trying to hold herself together so she wouldn’t cry on the walk home - not again.

Once they transitioned to the sidewalk off campus, she spoke up, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Why did you say I didn’t want any of them to walk me?”

“You wouldn't want them.” Seeing her questioning face, he continued on. She appreciated the small show of kindness, the willingness to distract from the big picture. The big problems could be solved later. “Allison would talk your ear off.” She could imagine that - the other girl had been a chatterbox from the moment she’d met her. “Diego would have ditched you to spite Luther.” He grimaced, but made no excuses for him. “You didn’t seem to like Luther’s height.” She turned red - had she been that obvious? “Klaus is nice, and he adores you already, but he has own problems. He wouldn’t have been able to help you. And Five...is Five.”

She remembered his cold hard stare. If disdain took human form, he exemplified it perfectly. “Is he always like that?”

“Irritable? Most of the time.” Ben shrugged, perhaps used to his brother’s temperament. “He’s always been that way. Puberty just made it worse.” He laughed and she cracked a smile.

“He doesn’t seem to like me much.”

“He’s rude but he he’s not a bad person. He’s just...not a people person.” Ben scratched the back of his head, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “If what he said about you not being our sibling upset you, I could probably get him to apologize…”

“No, that didn’t upset me.” Of all the things that could have - and did! - upset her, that certainly hadn’t been one of them. “What he said is true; none of you really know me and I don’t really know any of you. I would like to! Of course, I would like to…” she trailed off, kicking herself. Did she have perpetual foot in mouth disease?

“I guess it’s a little different for us. Growing up, we always knew you were out there. Dad used to mention bringing you home all the time.” Ben stopped in his tracks, turning towards her. “Sorry, I guess it wouldn’t be home to you.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

Seeing that he hadn’t offended her, they continued on. Without the other’s overbearing presence, Ben relaxed, overcoming his meekness. Or maybe it was because she opened up to him - he didn’t seem nearly as shy now as he had appeared just an hour beforehand.

“Dad was obsessed with tracking you down. He used to spend hours holed up in his office trying to pin down your exact location. If we interrupted him, he’d yell that he was trying to find our sister, and we needed to be better behaved. He is convinced that you’re the key we need for some big mission he won’t tell us about.”

“How did he even know what...what my...you know are?”

“He knew all of our powers before we did. None of us know how.” Ben patted his stomach, and seemed unaware he even did it. “But he used to compare us to you. Say that your powers were more useful. That  _ you  _ would be more useful. It really riled up Five and Diego. They took it a little more personally than the rest of us.”

“That’s awful!”

“That’s Dad.”

Vanya ignored the way his voice trembled. It seemed only right.

“Is that why they don’t like me? Because they are jealous your dad favored some imaginary, perfect child?”

“That’s part of it. Diego will warm up to you eventually.”  _ Hopefully before he slices and dices me, _  Vanya thought privately. “Five loves all of us, he’s just bad at showing it. And for what it’s worth, I think he’s actually interested in getting to know you.”

“Yeah?”

Ben nodded with a smile of someone holding a secret, and then fell silent. He seemed content to drink in all of the street signs and shop windows, and stared with wide eyed wonder whenever anyone walking a dog passed by. A couple of the owners let him stop to pet their dogs, and he thanked them profusely, each time his face turning a violent shade of red. It added to their already long walk, but Vanya didn’t mind. He resembled a tourist, happy just to exist in a new part of the world, and she didn’t have the heart to take that from him.

Vanya hummed, pondering the information Ben had offered. A lot of Diego’s actions made sense to her now that Ben clarified where he stood - she couldn’t imagine being compared to some perfect, untouchable ideal for years, only to face the devastating truth of her mediocrity. Klaus too, to a certain extent - he had been overly friendly in the beginning, but if they were raised to believe she was their sister…she wrinkled her nose. Going from an only child to learning she had six “siblings” would take some getting used to. Maybe they would be okay with just referring to her as a friend first. They could work on the sibling thing later.

Vanya stopped short. “This is me.” She colored at Ben’s obvious curiosity. Growing up in a multitude of one room apartments just couldn’t compare to a mansion, never mind an apartment above an antiques store. “Thank you for...well, everything.”

He inclined his head. “Good night, Vanya.”

 

* * *

As soon as Vanya locked the door behind her, she slumped against it, feeling all of her energy dissipate from her. It took everything in her to dump her bags onto her bean bag chair and walk over to the rickety, paint splattered side table by the kitchen. She ignored the stack of unopened bills. Like every night he worked, her dad left her a note, on her favorite music note shaped sticky notes. “Another late night, kiddo. Hope school was okay. Talk to you soon.”

“Maybe this is a good thing,” she whispered to herself. She shucked off her shoes and placed them by the threadbare welcome mat at the door. She tossed her sweater into the overflowing pile of laundry ready to be taken to the laundromat, leaving her only in her school uniform. She debated changing into her pajamas, but thinking about it made her even more tired. Instead, she walked over to the other side of the apartment, and slumped face down into her mattress.

Without Ben’s company diverting her attention away from the pain, her headache returned with a vengeance. She fished around the small netted bag she kept next to her bed and pulled out a pill bottle. She dry swallowed two pills and immediately slammed her face back into her pillow.

How could Harry Potter be so excited about the prospect of being magical when she dreaded it with every fiber of her being? She had...she had what? Exploded a window? Apparently caused rain storms when she was upset?

_ “Your power is one of a kind, Number Seven. You harness the energy of sound around you and release that energy as a tidal wave. The stronger your emotional reaction, the stronger the wave of energy. When you are upset, your power unconsciously reaches out and triggers sudden and unexpected rain storms. An odd talent, to say the least!” _

She snorted into her pillow, amused despite herself. Of course she could make it rain. She’d been caught in so many sudden downpours over her life, that had been the easiest pill to swallow.

_ “A talent that actually lead to me finding the general vicinity in which you live. After exhausting all avenues in Russia and surrounding countries, I turned my attention elsewhere. So many unforecasted rainfalls in such isolated areas is extremely abnormal. As you grew older, and your nomadic upbringing came to an end, the frequency grew larger and more concentrated. It didn’t take much research to narrow down your general location to this fifty mile area. I could hardly believe that you were so close! We’ll have to work on your stealth training in the future, of course, we wouldn’t want a mission to collapse because you are unable to keep your emotions in check.” _

Vanya rolled over, onto her side. She folded her pillow in half and shoved it under her head, poking her head up so she could look out into the street. Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a view - she could only watch the cars pass by, the occasional customer from the shop downstairs coming and going. The sound of the old bell on the door used to grab her attention, but now it lulls into the background, a welcoming, homey sound.

_ “You will, of course, be required to live here with the rest of your siblings, Number Seven. They’ve been anticipating your arrival for many years now, and are keen to include you in their family activities. You will be joining them in training as well. I’ll give you until the end of the month to move in - beyond that, I will be forced to reckon with your paternal figure. I suggest that you discuss the terms with him before the month is up.” _

How could she leave? Even if they didn’t have much, their apartment was home, had been home for a few years now. It was full of whimsical touches and history, like the beautiful privacy net around her bed that she’d spent forever perfecting: the framed photos of her and her mother, arranged in odd geometric patterns along the wall: their collection of second-hand mugs, the weirder the better: the floor lamp her dad found in a dumpster and repurposed to use as a spotlight for her to live out her fantasy of performing a solo in front of a crowd. She’d much rather chew off her own foot than abandon her father, a father who had no biological connection to her, no reason to raise her other than that he loved her.

_ “And if I don’t?” _

_ “Then I will be forced to utilize Number Three’s skills. I am sure you understand.” _

_ “...” _

_ “Excellent. Now that everything has been cleared up, I have business to attend to. Children, make sure to give Number Seven a warm welcome. You won’t be separated again.” _

Blech. Every time he said ‘Number Seven’, like it was her actual name, she wanted to hurl. What kind of father numbers his children? Or collects them like trophies to show off? Given how they fell into line when he entered the room, she could only imagine what went on behind closed doors. For all of the love and affection her father had shown her over the years, this father seemed incapable of it at all.

And now she was part of it.

The Umbrella Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much Fiveya yet. Don't worry, it's coming! Five and Vanya both have a lot to think about. And Ben is, as always, a precious bean looking out for all of his siblings.


	5. Hargreeves Residence

Five hated surprises. 

Well no, he liked to surprise other people. Spatial jumping in front of others remained the height of comedy. It was others surprising  _ him _ that he didn’t much appreciate. Too many variables, too much that could go wrong. Especially when he wasn’t an easily startled person. Diego had long since given up on scaring him with sudden knife throws, and even Klaus, the family prankster, toned down his antics in Five’s vicinity. If it meant an angry Five, it meant a bad time for all of them.

Five ran his eyes over his newest set of equations for the fifth time. All of the numbers blurred together in a muddy mess. He scrubbed at his eyes, thinking maybe he was just tired, to no avail. The numbers remained as evasive as they had when he had first sat down, hoping to utilize what little free time they had been unexpectedly gifted. His attention was still completely devoted to musing over the surprise of their dear Number Seven. 

Short. That was his first, disappointed impression. She couldn’t be an inch over five feet. Kind of mousy, all brown hair and big brown eyes. Maybe cute, if he was being generous. Nothing exceptional about her. Not at all what he had been imagining in all the years their father had waxed on about their poor lost sister, the sister meant to be the most powerful of them all. Even if he had not wished to think about her, he couldn’t escape her invisible presence, the hold she had on their father, the power she held over his siblings need to connect with others. The thought of what her true presence could mean for them. 

When he was younger, he indulged in imagining what she would look like, in the safety and privacy of his own thoughts before bed. Maybe his height? Would she be muscular like Luther? Or maybe lithe and carefree like Klaus? Her power was connected to sound, to music after all, and weren’t musicians known for being flighty? Sometimes, late at night, the thought of her consumed him, his curiosity knowing no bounds. He would lose sleep to thoughts of her, often dreaming of her, his imagination and analytical mind working together to conspire against him.

When they were still little, maybe six, they had all drawn pictures of what they thought she would look like, messy crayon and marker stick figures. Diego’s fingers had been covered in green and purple marker and Klaus had smudged pink highlighter on his cheeks. Ben, usually quiet and unassuming while he worked, had drawn with a fervor, animated and lively in a way they hadn’t seen since his powers abrupt activation. Allison couldn’t contain her chatter, rattling on and on about Number Seven and what she thought she would be like, with Luther nudging her on, a graveyard of broken crayons surrounding him.

Grace had tacked their pictures up on the fridge, telling them how proud she was of their cooperation. Every morning during breakfast, Five used to stare at the different images they had created, surprised and intrigued by how differently each of them imagined Number Seven to be. It was almost as if she was there with them. 

Their father removed the pictures after a six child temper tantrum spree, ripping each picture to shreds. Five could still remember the gut punch of hysteria, the combination of anger and sadness milling inside of him as he was forced to watch his hard work become little more than scraps. He had been standing besides Klaus and Allison, neither of them able to contain their emotions, especially at that age. Their faces wet with tears, their lower lips quibbling.

They never drew her again after that. 

Five remembered drawing her, remembered the total concentration he allotted towards the task, the childish wonder at seeing his vision come to life. The childish pride he had taken had been dashed by their father just as ruthlessly as ever.

Every time their father pounded on about how Number Seven would have done something this way, or would have used her power in that way, he conjured such specific images of her that reality could never live up to the fantasy. She was, to him, the ultimate surprise and the ultimate disappointment. And for some reason, that bothered him. Just as much as the memory of his hard work ripped to shreds. 

He chewed on the inside of his cheek shoving his equations off to the side. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at his ceiling. A couple of glow in the dark stars still lingered in patches above his desk, left overs from Ben. With his desk lamp on, they didn’t glow as bright, but he could still make out every single one. 

“Five?”

He twirled in his chair, ducking his head in greeting. Ben leaned against the doorframe, a book in hand. His hair, free of product and fresh from the shower, dripped water down his shoulders. Even from across the room, Five could smell the generic body wash the boys all shared, and the fruity shampoo Allison favored. When Five didn’t say anything, he walked in and plopped himself down on the bed, shuffling aside Five’s spare blanket folded haphazardly by his bed board.

Of all of their siblings, Five could admit he enjoyed Ben’s company the most. There was no competition between them, like Five and Luther, no petty squabbles like Five and Diego. Ben couldn’t use his power on Five like Allison could (or at least not without tearing him apart limb from limb). Klaus, drugs personified, was more likely to be high than of any use to Five, other than the rare moments his special brand of humor tickled Five’s fancy. 

When they were younger, Ben used to sneak from his room across the hall into Five’s room in the dead of night. Five, a perpetual night owl, used to wait up for his brother, and then let him cuddle against him until the other boy fell back asleep, his nightmares and crippling fear of the dark assuaged by Five’s solid presence next to him. As they grew older, Ben visited less and less in the night, until he stopped coming at all. The glow in the dark stickers were all that remained of that phase in their life.

Now that they were older, they spent what little spare time they had split between their hobbies. Sometimes they sat in Five’s room together and did nothing. Other times, Ben read out loud to him from one of his many novels, his voice soft and calming. Five occasionally explained what equations he had rattling around in his head, often times working them out as he did so. He knew Ben didn’t have the mathematical background to know what he was talking about, but he humored him, encouraged him, and that was all he needed. The unspoken understanding they shared was what kept Five sane in a household of insanity.

That didn’t mean their relationship was perfect. Ben would always pick Klaus first, after all, and Ben unleashed Five’s inner demon whenever he woke him up when Five wasn’t ready; Five didn’t have the words to comfort Ben when he needed solace instead of stability. But they made it work.

Five eyed him, seeing his relaxed demeanor. Out of the six of them - seven now - Ben seemed the calmest, but having been on his bad side on more than one occasion over the years, he held no illusions about what the boy’s temper could produce when provoked. “Did you come to yell at me too?”

Ben ran his finger down the spine of his book. “‘Too?’” 

Five shrugged. “Allison.”

“Ah.” 

To no surprise, their sister attempted to lecture him, with all the righteous fury of someone incapable of being wrong. She had even gone the extra mile and cornered him in the hallway by the staircase leading to Five’s room, with Luther standing guard nearby, probably under the delusion that their brother could stop him. She’d only gotten a few words in; with a power like spatial jumping, Five sat through no lectures from his siblings, least of all Allison’s long winded and self-congratulatory rants. He didn’t buy the genial sister role she was selling. Memories of their childhood high jinks weren’t easily forgotten. If Vanya were smart, she would catch on too. 

“I did come to talk to you about her,” Ben admitted. Duh. Five wasn’t a genius for nothing. “Vanya thinks you don’t like her.”

Five looked up at the ceiling again. Looked at the Big Dipper that Ben had whined to get just right. “And I suppose you want me to apologize to her?”

“No.” Ben laughed, not unkindly, but Five didn’t find himself laughing back.

“No?”

“No.”

“Really?”

Ben shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. “You’re only ruining your own chances, you know. Which is unfortunate for you...”

Five sputtered, standing up from his chair with enough force to send it flying into his desk. “What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

Ben smiled ruefully at him, standing as well. Five might be taller, but it wasn’t by much. “Maybe I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said, patting Five on the shoulder before walking across the hallway, back to his own room.

“We’re the same age, you dipshit!”

 

\-------

 

“Do you think she’ll let me braid her hair?” Allison paced in semi-circles around her bed, hands fluttering as she talked. Her own hair was up in a fashionable bun, which clashed with the modest pajamas their father insisted upon. Even when he gave them spare money to shop for clothes, his stringent standards left little room for self expression. “Her hair is so long and straight, it looks so soft.”

Luther chuckled, closing the space magazine he had been idly flipping through to give her his full attention. Since Vanya’s disappearing act, all anyone could think or talk about was Vanya. Even Luther himself had found his thoughts drifting to the elusive Number Seven. While Allison’s interests seemed to lie in the idea of sisterly bonding, Luther ruminated over how best to introduce Vanya’s power to their team dynamic. The glass shattering left an impression he wasn’t soon to forget. 

“Maybe. When she’s not so overwhelmed,” he pointed out. Even though Five often sneered at his “oafish” behaviour, Luther could easily detect how off balance Vanya had been during their introductions. With how small and fragile she seemed, he almost hadn’t believed that she was the one their father had spent years searching for. 

“I always wanted a sister,” Allison whispered, coming to a halt in front of her mirror. “I mean, Klaus lets me paint his nails, which is great, but I always wanted more, you know?” She flipped on her heel. “She seems sweet.”

“She does.” Unlike Allison, a self admitted motormouth, Vanya appeared apprehensive and demure, hunched over as she had been, clutching her bags to her with such force she turned her knuckles white. They would need to train that out of her - there was no time for second guessing, no do overs, just do or die.

Allison sank down on her bed, her hand resting next to his. She didn’t lift her head, as she said, “Dad won’t like that.”

“No, no he won’t.”

 

\-------

 

“Klaus, get out of my room.” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe this is my room and  _ you _ are the one intruding?”

“No, because this is  _ my room _ . How high are you?”

Klaus giggled, sliding down the bed until his head nearly touched the floor. The loose black crop top he’d stolen from his latest fling fell down with gravity, bunching by his neck. Unlike Luther and Diego himself, Klaus remained relatively thin, unfazed about building muscle or stamina. His ribs jutted out, his hip bones prominent. It sickened Diego.

“You know what? I don’t want to know."

Diego returned to tuning his guitar, ignoring Klaus’ background whining. Maybe Ben would wander by and pick up his favorite sibling. Ben’s disapproval of Klaus’s drug habits and running tab of gentlemen callers was the only reason the two weren’t permanently attached at the hip, and why Klaus often weedled his way into Diego’s room when he couldn’t stand to be alone. Diego found Klaus funny, at the best of times, his witty, self deprecating humor a contrast to the rest of their over inflated egos. At the worst of times, Diego found Klaus depressing, his self destructive tendencies hard to stomach. At the moment, he teetered between pity and irritation. The old man really put Klaus through the ringer with their training. He didn’t talk about it but a teenager didn’t score the kind of drugs Klaus did unless they had something they wanted to forget.

“Do you think she’s happy?”

“Who?”

“Number Seven. Vanya.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “A hell of a lot happier than you, I’d bet good money on that.”

Klaus wheezed, kicking the sticks he called legs back and forth in the air like a goddamn weirdo. “She has a dad that loves her. I wonder what that’s like,” he slurred, coughing.

Diego paused, and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Klaus never initiated serious conversation, never with him at least. They bantered, they wrestled, they sometimes sat in companionable silence, but Diego didn’t do heartfelt chats about  _ feelings _ .

“You know, you should try to be nice to her, Diego. Maybe you two can form a band! Oh, we can name it ‘Daddy Issues!’ Or, oh how about -”

“-If you don’t shut up, I’m going to push your scrawny butt out the window!”

  
  


\-------

 

Grace hummed to herself as she dusted the foyer. 

For years, she had been privy to the information of another child out in the world, in desperate need of her love. And now she would be coming home. Vanya. She smiled to herself. Such a beautiful, strong name. Grace loved her already.

 

\-------

Pogo read over the intended lesson plan one last time, before he closed his notebook and stood from his desk, stretching. His joints popped, his vision momentarily blacked out. How long he’d been sitting, he couldn’t say. Without a window, he had only the clock to attest to how late it was, and he found himself avoiding those numbers more and more as the years passed. 

He picked up the photo frame he kept on the corner of his desk, one of his rare few possessions. All six of the children smiled back at him, a rare, near impossible moment to capture. Luther’s arm looped around Allison’s shoulders, the two sharing a meaningful look as they laughed at their siblings. Ben stood off to the side of them, head held high, absent of any crutch to hide behind. Five leaned against the wall behind them, a boyish, charming smile lighting up his morose face. Diego and Klaus wrestled on the floor, Klaus’s legs kicked up high into a split, his head thrown back in laughter, while Diego struggled to remove Klaus’s arms from him, laughing all the same at his brother’s theatrics. 

Pogo wished they could remain children forever, unaware of the cruelties of life, appreciative of the miracles they had, their bond as siblings untested and untried. But time waits for no one. The children were now teenagers, sullen and moody, hormonal and reckless. Luther’s dreams of becoming an astronaut were deemed unimportant; Diego’s jealousy of Luther’s leadership lead to countless pissing contests over control; Allison’s abuse of her powers resulted in contempt and confusion; Klaus’s sobriety remained a pipe dream; Five emotionally isolated himself from the others, lost in fantastical notions of grandeur; Ben kept up the facade that he could control the beast inside of him. The Umbrella Academy splintered before it had ever been whole. 

Pogo often found himself in the tricky situation of wanting to support his dearest friend and creator, while despising the methods the man used in the name of the greater good. The children deserved the truth - deserved the world! Reginald’s plan to unite them hinged on their complete cooperation and Pogo was terrified to admit that he doubted that was possible.

Pogo turned the photo over.

 

 

\-------

**R.H. Journal**

**19XX**

Number Seven and her mother remain at large. Despite my many contacts in Russia, no one can locate the two of them. It is as if they disappeared. Considering the state of poverty her mother came from, it is likely that they received outside help, but from who and for what reasons, I can only begin to imagine. 

It is unlikely that her powers will manifest this early on in her infancy, but I still must acquire her before her powers spiral out of control, or before anyone else becomes privy to her destiny.

 

**19XX**

Pogo’s suggestion to inform the children of Number Seven has been a success. Despite a number of hiccups along the way, including several temper tantrums that left the house in a state of chaos, they now have a mission to focus on in their spare time. 

 

**20XX**

The children, privy to the knowledge of Number Seven’s existence from a young age, have responded as predicted to the news of Number Seven’s true abilities and inevitable place on the team. 

Number One, fearful of being displaced as leader, has started doubling down on his orders.

Number Two, prideful as ever, practices his craft with a fervor unlike ever before, unwilling to be replaced.

Number Three’s growing attraction to Number One pales in comparison with her need for female companionship. 

Number Four’s head is in the clouds. His attachment to his siblings remains one of his top weaknesses, second only to his affinity for illegal substances. The thought of a second sister, one strong enough to help him, is a main attraction in his delusions. 

Number Six, treated as the youngest and most vulnerable of the group despite his grotesque powers, wishes for another for him to nurture and care for in place of Number Four.

Number Five’s thoughts on the subject remain a mystery to me. The child is pragmatic and closed off as always. 

  
  


**20XX**

At long last, Number Seven has finally surfaced. Her innate ability to create rain has lead me to believe that she is closer than I ever could have anticipated! Weather reports in the surrounding counties have remarked on the unusual amount of unforecasted rain. 

How and why she came to the United States remains a secret for now. What are the odds that she would emerge so close to the academy? It does not seem likely that it was a coincidence. Only time will tell.

 

**20XX**

As predicated, Number Seven has fallen into the lure of the scholarship. After so many years of hunting her down, she has finally emerged from the shadows. The excitement of her appearance almost lead me to showing my hand too early. 

Number Seven is not aware of her unusual talents, that much is easy to tell. She believes herself to be an ordinary girl in spite of her life circumstances - that weakness will be easy to exploit when the time comes. 

Despite the children having no biological fathers, Number Seven lives with a father, whom she holds in high regard. His role in her life is key to her compliance. She will not willingly separate herself from him. 

Revealing her origins and role in life will wait.

 

**20XX**

The children are restless. 

Number Five, on the behest of his siblings, broke into Pogo’s room and discovered Number Seven’s edited file. They are now aware of her name and when they will be meeting her. They are reacting as suspected.

Number One has thrown himself into leading additional team exercises whenever possible.

Number Two has placed extra dart boards around the house to practice in every circumstance he can.

Number Three has spent far too much of her free time pouring over magazines in the hopes of having topics of conversation that don’t revolve around her brothers.

Number Four and Number Six have been caught huddled together, whispering their childish dreams of what Number Seven will be like. Number Four has spent less time out and about. 

Number Five refuses to indulge in conversations about Number Seven. Perhaps jealous of her power?

Everything is going according to plan. 

 

**20XX**

Number Seven’s display of power works in my favor. The children are now understanding the impact of a seventh member of The Umbrella Academy. I could not have hoped for a more auspicious beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our charming, charming children. 
> 
> I'm keeping the time period set in the vague 2000's. Kinda like the show, the time period isn't super important. 
> 
> There's Fiveya in the next chapter ya'll. Hope you're ready for it!


	6. Number Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is chapter 5 but the prologue throws off the chapter count. I cry.

After the events of the previous day, Vanya prepared herself to be swept up into chaos the moment she set foot on campus. Despite the information overload presented to her from the Hargreeves, no one had made concrete plans with her, leaving her anxious and paranoid. Her pills had sedated her enough to sleep the night away, but even a full night’s rest couldn’t keep her from being on edge. She half expected Five to spatial jump into her class and taunt her about her mental breakdown the day before, or for Diego to catch her off guard with one of his knives again. Or worse - for the headmaster, the Monocle, to fetch her from her classes to instruct her personally.

First period went by without a hitch. Then second period. By the time third period came and left without a peep, she relaxed. Once fourth period arrived, she felt on top of the world. The boy next to her, a friendly, red haired boy, introduced himself as Alex and offered to share notes with her at the end of class. Despite the bell dismissing them for lunch, they both hung around their desks as their classmates filed out the door. The teacher hurried away without a backwards glance at them, leaving them to their own devices in the empty classroom. 

“I bet you take better notes than mine,” he admitted, cocking an eyebrow up and smiling, “being the scholarship student and all. Maybe it’ll help my math grade.” His smile reached his eyes - Vanya remembered her father once remarking that someone had an “honest face” and she couldn’t think of a better way to describe Alex. 

Vanya agreed to help him with his poorest subject and the two chatted about their math strengths and weaknesses, Alex’s grandiose sense of humor bleeding over into his analysis of his own capabilities. Vanya couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such an engaging time chatting with a peer - moving around so much meant tenuous ties to others. Most of Vanya’s friendships remained superficial at best, most of the time just chatting about the latest hit song on the radio or the current gossip in school. Her loneliness only grew tenfold when they moved into their latest apartment - being surrounded by so many familiar faces day by day, and knowing that not one single soul cared one iota about her left her isolating herself to avoid the cold sting of rejection. Loneliness was hard enough when she was truly alone, but it was even more maddening when she wasn’t.

She laughed at a math pun Alex made when she caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye. Like a moth to the flame, her attention hyper focused to the figure strutting towards them from the open door. Alex’s quiet chuckles petered off as her expression hardened from a state of relaxed contentment to one of cautious curiosity. 

“Vanya.” 

“Five.” 

He eyed her companion with what she could only describe as scorn. The lower corners of his mouth tucked down into a frown, and despite the easy manner in which he shoved his hands into his pockets, he straightened to his full height, and cocked his chin up. Alex, only a scant couple of inches taller than her, had to look up at him to meet his eyes. 

Alex’s smile faltered for a second as the room descended into awkward silence. But then, undeterred, he thrust his hand at Five with a cheery “Hello! I’m Alex. And you are...Five?” 

Having spent very little time with Five, Vanya could only guess as to what he would do. She, of course, inwardly groaned when he proved her right. He ignored Alex’s proffered hand, the snub obvious and intentional. “We’re meeting for lunch,” he said with finality. Then with one last glare, he turned on his heel and exited the room just as quickly as he had come. If it weren’t for drilled compliance when it came to discretion, she had no doubt in her mind that he would have spatial jumped just to assert his dominance, like the evolved animal he was. 

Alex retracted his hand and brought it up to the back of his head. He whistled, one long piercing note. “Wow, he’s something, huh?” 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Vanya mumbled lowly. Five’s presence had thrown a wrench in her good mood, but she certainly couldn't take it out on Alex. She tried for a reassuring expression, hoping she could convey her reluctance to leave. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go after him. Can we...I mean is it possible-”

“No worries! We have literature together last period right?” She nodded, though she couldn’t remember seeing him. But then again, she had kept her head down in most of her classes. “We can talk then?”

  
“Yes! Thank you so much.” Vanya grabbed at her bag, letting her hair flutter in front of her face, hoping he didn’t catch the vibrant flush that rose high on her cheeks. “I’ll see you then.” 

He lingered behind, cleaning up his loose leaf notes and messy backpack, as she hurried out the door. Though Five’s interruption left a sour taste in her mouth, she felt a spring in her step at the unexpected friendliness of the other boy. She’d never been friends with a boy before. Maybe they really could share notes, or even study together. Despite her anxiousness about whatever Five needed, she smiled to herself, the fantasy of a normal friendship hard to resist.

Five leaned against the wall further down the hall, under a stuffed boar’s head. When she got within a foot of him, he quickly kicked off the wall and started walking away from her. With a huff, she followed. “Where are we going?” 

“Back to the music room.”

Of course. What else would she have expected? 

Unlike Ben, Five walked with only the utmost of confidence. He kept his head held high, his posture immaculate, and he didn’t deviate from his route whatsoever. Many of the girls who lingered in the hallways and out in the walkways stared longingly at him, and a few even shot envious glares at Vanya, as if her position was somehow covetable. He didn’t spare any of them a single glance. Vanya felt almost sorry for them, lusting after a person that would never return their affections. Then she caught them whispering behind their hands, following her with narrowed eyes, and any sense of compassion vanished.

Five did not bother to talk to her, as she tried to engage him with nervous small talk. She gave up after asking him her third unanswered question and just trotted after him, feeling a lot like a sheep being led to the slaughter.

_ “He’s rude but he’s not a bad person. He’s just...not a people person.”  _

Vanya swallowed down her irritation. The last thing she needed was to somehow activate her powers and level the school. If Ben believed his brother was a good person underneath his rudeness, there must be a reason why. Ben didn’t strike her as the type to be loyal to assholes, brother or not. 

The music room was mercifully empty when they arrived, one small miracle at least. Five made a beeline for the couch. The marble topped table that survived the ordeal the previous day stood in front of the couch laden with food. Vanya felt her mouth water as she approached. In contrast to her meager sandwich and carrot sticks, Five’s lunch was downright rich. He had heaping proportions of rice mixed with broccoli and chicken, on what looked to be fine china. Next to his plate, sat a shiny red apple, a glass of milk, and a red hanky, the type of which she had not seen on anyone under the age of ninety. 

Vanya slid into the chair across from him. “Where are the others?” she asked, looking around. The rain water had been mopped up and the windows taped shut with paper and duct tape, but she still averted her gaze from the wreckage. The reality still battled with denial in her mind. 

“It’s just going to be us.”

She frowned, running over their brief conversation in her mind. “I thought you said ‘we?’”

He crossed his legs in front of him, exuding the kind of calm and casual attitude she envied. Years of attempting to school her expressive body language yielded little results. “I did.

“Then I don’t understand.” 

“I never specified who ‘we’ were. In this case, it means you and me.” 

Vanya gripped the wooden arm of the chair to keep herself from leaping at him. Unlike yesterday, where her fear of Five dominated all other emotions, she felt mostly sick with displeasure. He’d interrupted her one moment of peace and trampled all over it all for...what exactly? 

“Fine,” she hissed. “What is it that you want?” 

She felt a sick sort of thrill when his mouth opened slightly with shock. He schooled his expression back to one of clinical disinterest before she could comment on his apparent surprise. “I didn’t think you had that kind of spunk in you.” 

“‘Spunk?’” What was he, an old man? 

Five leaned against the back of the couch, propping his head up with his hand. His posture remained a bit rigid for a teenager, but at least he wasn’t yet as uptight as his father. “I got the impression yesterday that you were extremely shy. Seems like that was wrong.”

Vanya tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling his attention follow her every move. It would be almost flattering if it came from anyone else. With him, she felt like he was examining her, stripping her down to every flaw and weakness. She didn’t care for discussing her own worst traits, and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. If he wasn’t going to answer her directly about why they were there, she could at least try and control some of the conversation. “Are you going to eat your lunch?” 

He gestured to the plate in front of him with a flick of his wrist. “I didn’t know what your favorite food was, so I had Grace dish up what the others were eating. Hopefully it’s to your tastes.” 

“Wait...that’s for me?” she pointed at the meal, noticing for the first time that the silverware laid on either side of the plate was on her side. 

“Consider it an apology.”

Vanya blinked stupidly, unable to make a sound. Why was it that this infuriating boy had such a hold on her? As the seconds ticked on, she jerked herself out of her stupor, untying her tongue. “An apology for what?” Though surprised he would even consider such a grand gesture to apologize to her of all people, she was curious to see if he would take it a step further. From what little she knew of him, he appeared too prideful to sink to groveling for her forgiveness.

Five broke eye contact. Without the full brunt of his attention on her, she had the opportunity to unabashedly observe him. For the first time, she could appreciate just how young he really was. Without his signature smirk or scowl, he looked like anyone else their age, with his soft boyish good looks. Just a little over a month until his sixteenth birthday - their sixteenth birthday. The thought humbled him in her mind. She leaned forward and picked up her fork, before he could take back his good will present. Though simple, the meal tasted extraordinary. Much better than her sandwich and carrots, that was for sure. 

“My siblings brought to my attention that my words yesterday were a tad harsh.” Only a tad? “I admit, I could have handled the situation better.” 

_ Is it so hard to say the words “I’m sorry?” _ “Which siblings?” 

He turned back to her. “What?”

“I bet it was Ben,” she mused, cutting up her chicken into smaller bites. “Maybe...Klaus?” It certainly wouldn’t have been Diego. His opinion on her had been anything but subtle, his negativity blatant and unapologetic. Luther’s opinion of her remained in the wind still. 

Five shifted in his seat. “Ben,” he grumbled, “and Allison, I suppose, though I didn’t stick around to listen to her attempts to lecture me.” 

Vanya nodded, sipping at her milk. Eating in front of others usually caused her great anxiety, but with the events of the last two days fresh in her mind, it didn’t even register in her brain to be uncomfortable about it. 

Though Five undoubtedly didn’t mean to, he was practically drowning her in a sea of valuable information. Though he presented himself as a detached, cynical, logical being, he clearly valued Ben’s opinion enough to seek her out and apologize, as mediocre of an apology as it was. That meant Ben was important to him; someone to exploit if need be, in direct contrast of his relationship with Allison. Though he refused to utter the magic words, Vanya could tell that he did at least mean what he said, today and yesterday - he had been harsh and he could have handled it better, but his opinion remained unchanged regarding the meaning of his words. Maybe there was some truth to what Ben had told her - he was rude, and not a people person, but perhaps there was more to it than just that.

“The two of you seemed real chummy.” 

Vanya polished off her glass of milk and swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She chuckled at his grimace, ignoring his obvious eye flicker to the hanky. “Elaborate?” 

“That kid you were with earlier.”

“Do you even remember his name?”

“Why would I?”

Bastard. She picked up the apple and stowed it in her bag for later, figuring that if it was part of her apology meal, she could keep it even if she didn’t eat it all in front of Five. “Alex and I were just talking about math. Exchanging notes.” 

The space between his brows furrowed, but he made no further comments on Alex. She waited for him to initiate more conversation, but he remained quiet as she continued to eat. Unlike with Ben, who Vanya considered a kindred spirit in awkwardness, there was no rapport with Five, and so the silence stretched on uncomfortably. With him directly across from her, her hair was no shield from his inquisitive attentions. He didn’t bother to hide his roving gaze, nor did he seem ashamed of it, meeting her eyes with a self satisfied smirk. She felt herself grow hot under the collar. She fidgeted in her chair, her mind racing.

The fire inside her diminished; with her anger snuffed out, the feelings of anxiety from Five’s energy were slowly crawling back to the forefront of her mind. On the one hand, she felt as if Five deserved it - on the other, she was being forced to be a meaningful presence in his life for at least the foreseeable future and a positive relationship would behoove them both. And he’d reached out and apologized - in his own way - to her because his siblings asked him to. While she couldn’t give him credit for his attitude, she could for the clear love he held for the others. 

She cleared her throat and scooted her butt back in her chair a bit. “Do you mind me asking you a question?” 

He arched a brow at her. 

Taking that as a yes, she plowed on, before her courage fled her. “Your dad - would he really...use Allison against my dad?” 

Five’s whole body tensed, as if his displeasure pulled his body taut. His frown morphed into a sneer. Vanya froze at the sudden chill that swept across the room. “A sane man doesn’t purchase six children and push them to their physical and mental limits, and a sane man doesn’t threaten a child’s father with being memory wiped just to force their hand. What do  _ you _ think?”

Five leaned forward, closer to her. Vanya flinched back as if struck by lightning, his words and his sudden anger manifesting a deep, complex feeling in her. Her fears were confirmed - there was no getting out of this situation. She glared down at the floor by Five’s feet, willing the tears bubbling up inside of her not to fall. Apology or no, rapport or not, exposing weaknesses to the Hargreeves seemed ill advised. 

A second passed. Then another. She released a shuddering breath through her mouth, then another through her nose. She released the side of her chair she had unconsciously clung to, realizing her knuckles turned white with how harshly she had gripped it. She flexed her fingers. 

“The others have always wanted a little sister.”

Vanya whipped her head up. Five, leaning against the back of the couch once more, had a curious expression on his face she could not place. 

Dumbly, she just said, “what?”

Five sighed, crossing his arms in front of him. He reminded her very much of her father scolding her in the moment and despite whatever negative feelings she had dancing inside of her, she couldn’t stop herself from internally laughing at the comparison. No doubt the both of them would not take kindly to the favorable parallel. 

“Ben and the others, they’ve always wanted to meet you. We’ve known about you since we were kids, after all.” He looked off to the side. “They’ll probably be overwhelming at times. Loud. Boisterous. Incredibly nosy.” He chuckled to himself, and a fond smile replaced his frown. “But they mean well.”  

Vanya offered him a tentative smile. Though his abrupt mood swing and change of topic set her nerves on high alert, she couldn’t miss the implications of his words. “You’re not including yourself in this disclaimer are you?” 

“I never wanted another sister.” 

Vanya nodded - Five clearly had his work cut out for him with the one he already had. Allison reminded her so strongly of the popular girls that everyone flocked to. Beautiful, smart, engaging. Combine that with the ethical dilemmas of the power she possessed…

Vanya laid her fork down on her empty plate, and stood. There couldn’t possibly be much more time in their lunch break and she needed to walk across campus to her next class. Five’s words rang in her mind and she knew she would fixating on them for the foreseeable future. She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Five stood as well, his joints popping with his lazy stretch, his sweater vest pulling up and showing off the lean planes of his stomach. “I take it the food was to your liking then?”

Inspired, she smirked at him, and said, “That wasn’t what I was thanking you for.”

Before he could react, she swept out of the room. 

 

\-------

_ “That wasn’t what I was thanking you for.” _

Five shoved his finished assignment to the corner of his table, allowing their tutor to grab it as she passed them on her way to assist a comically confused Klaus. He dug through his stack of textbooks and located his assignment for their next lesson, placing it in front of him in case their tutor attempted to assign him extra work before their period with her was up. He fiddled with his pen, his other hand balancing his cheek. Behind him, Klaus attempted to verbally work through his issues with geometry, their tutor’s patience wearing thin by the sounds of her scoffs and general huffy exhales, no doubt put off by Klaus’s near diarrhea like tirade. Five rolled his eyes, but appreciated Klaus’s theatrics all the same - as long as the other boy didn’t know that. 

With his math problems neatly and precisely finished, and Klaus still running his mouth in typical fashion, like a peculiar white noise machine, his mind was free to wonder, and wonder it did. Like so many hours spent in his younger years, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the thought of Vanya. 

_ “That wasn’t what I was thanking you for.” _

What could she  _ possibly _ thank him for besides the food? His apology? He could admit to himself - and only himself - that it had been half hearted, executed on a whim, and lacked any sort of proper finesse. If Klaus had been privy to his plans, the other boy would surely have nudged him to a far more tasteful and meaningful approach, even if the way was peppered with cooing and minor ribbing. Klaus’s brain may not comprehend simple geometry, but even Five could admit the other had the emotional intelligence he lacked in spades, and he would have been all over Five’s attempts to build a relationship with Vanya.

Ben, on the other hand, despite his low key demeanor, had left him to his own devices on how to approach their newest addition, and Five could not begrudge him for that, though he certainly could glare at him from across the way. Dealing with people had never been his forte, and despite Ben’s gracious attempts to guide him towards bettering himself in that department, he felt very much like he had done the social equivalent of a face plant. The palpable nervousness Vanya exuded on their first meeting had been present for his attempted apology, but so too had a fire in her that he hadn’t expected her to direct towards him. Both were not exactly what he had been aiming for, but not at all surprising, considering it was him. 

_ “What is it that you want?”  _

Klaus grumbled behind him, much to their tutor’s chagrin. Allison and Luther, wrapped up in their picture perfect bullshit, whispered back and forth to one another as only they could get away with, as they worked on their assignment one problem at a time. Diego swayed, the corners of his mouth white with crusted drool - how he could possibly sleep with his eyes open eluded Five. When it came to academics, Diego was not nearly as competitive as he was when it came to training, much more content to take a back seat here and there for his own well being. Across from him, Ben remained hunched over his work, studious and humble in equal amounts, no doubt counting down the seconds until their literature period began.

Soon Vanya would join them, at least in training, as their father certainly couldn’t pull her from her academics after the hooplah of her scholarship. According to their father, she would also be living with them. Five, in a moment of weakness and boredom, inspired by his fits of sleep, had scoped out the potential rooms their father could place her in, and the most likely candidate was a room in the hallway he and Ben shared. It would award her more privacy than that of the rooms on the lower floor, where Luther, Allison, Diego and Klaus resided, and the room itself was quite large, larger even than his own. The room had already been outfitted with a bed, a dresser, and a vanity, and one of the windows overlooking the campus had been converted into a window seat. Five, half asleep and mentally exhausted from over thinking, had shuffled over to the window seat, and fallen asleep to the soft sounds of the surrounding city. He had only just woken up in time to avoid being caught.

_ “I never wanted another sister.”  _

What a stupid misstep, revealing too much information in too short of a time period. He shook his head. Five drowned out the cacophony of regret and elation in his mind and started working on his next assignment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not be the last time Vanya will be won over with food. 
> 
> Oh Five, you poor idiot. No idea how to talk to people. 
> 
> I have now reached the point where I no longer have whole chapters finished ahead of time, so updates will be slower now. That being said, chapters should start slowly getting longer and I have some more Ouran inspired moments to add in <3


	7. And so it Begins

Vanya scurried to the music room with the energy of a frantic mouse. In her earlier dazed retreat from Five, she had forgotten to clarify where and when she was meant to meet for their first training session, having never been awarded the specifics. Alex, indeed in her literature class, held her up as they discussed their homework assignment and pointedly avoided the topic of Five, Alex’s curiosity tamed by her obvious disinterest and side stepping of the topic. It was only when he waved her goodbye that the age old panic of tardiness awoke in her and she bolted out the door, nearly toppling over the trio of girls that lingered in the hallway outside of her classroom. She yelled her apologies at them as she skidded out of the way, narrowly avoiding running into the wall. She recognized one of the girls as one of the handful of Five’s admirers from earlier in the day, her eye catching auburn hair fluttering in the wake of Vanya’s retreat. 

But she quickly forgot about that fact as she raced across campus, battling against the hordes of students that still lined the pathways, an occasional teacher monitoring them and shooting her dirty looks as she sped past. 

When she finally reached the music room, she threw open the door without any preamble and stepped through, her head bowed in abject apology. Her heartbeat soared and her chest heaved as she leaned against the now-closed door. She tilted her head back, throat and nose burning, trying to catch her breath.

And then promptly, she choked on a scream.

“Chill, this is just Pogo.” Diego rolled his eyes, materializing from the side like a cat in the night. She didn’t even jump at his entrance though, her attention refusing to stray from the smaller figure in the room, Diego’s knives be damned. Diego noticed the slight and his voice dropped an octave, which was very impressive for a teenager. “He’s got feelings too you know.”

“That’s enough now, Master Diego. She’s been given a fright! Chastising her will not do any of us any favors.” 

Diego muttered under his breath, but for once, didn’t argue the point. He eventually disappeared from her peripheral view, ducking out and away to god only knows where. 

Vanya edged closer into the room, while maintaining distance from Pogo. The events of the past two days should have cleared her mind of any silly notions of understanding what was “normal” or “real” in the world, but Pogo’s mere existence butchered her hard earned tranquility and easy reality. Though he looked non-threatening in his Mr. Roger’s sweater and pants set, she couldn’t bring herself to step forward and introduce herself, all of her facilities tackling the unrealistic situation thrust upon her. Would each day be an unending amount of surprises? She very much was  _ not _ a fan of surprises!

Pogo, to his credit, stayed perfectly still, attempting to appear non threatening. He cleared his throat and opted for a strained, albeit polite smile. While Vanya could tell his intentions were to try to soothe her from her frazzled state of being, the sight of his sharpened canines did little to settle her nerves. When he spoke, he spoke with a soft, clear voice, like one would talk to a child. “Miss Vanya? I’m Pogo, Master Reginald’s assistant. I take it that neither he nor the children informed you of my role in the academy?” Vanya shook her head, which prompted a weary sigh. “Really, I shouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbled to himself with a sharp shake of his head. 

From across the room, Klaus yelled - “He won’t eat you!” 

Pogo stifled a laugh, though not quickly enough for Vanya to miss it entirely. “What Master Klaus is attempting - poorly, I may add - to tell you, is that I am no threat to you, Miss Vanya. I’ve been with the children since they were toddlers - and some of them have not grown much since then.” 

From the background, Klaus shouted, “Hey!”

“Oh.”  _ What the hell is wrong with this family?! A literal monkey butler? _ Now that she had caught her breath, Vanya allowed herself to slowly loosen her muscles, no longer prepared for fight or flight. As odd as a humanoid monkey butler may be to her, he was kinder than the headmaster by far, his attempts to assuage her worries speaking to his caring nature. His barbed comments towards Klaus spoke of a playful relationship, one curated throughout the years. 

She slid her gaze to the others. Klaus and Ben were goofing off together, play wrestling on the floor, a squealing Klaus pinned down by a cackling, relaxed Ben. Diego sharpened his knives, whistling to himself lowly, seemingly content with his craft. Allison and Luther lurked in the corner, whispering to one another, Allison smiling from ear to ear as her attention whipped back and forth between Luther and Vanya herself. Unlike yesterday with the headmaster’s entrance, none of them felt the need for an emotionless facade - indeed, it was like they came to life in Pogo’s presence. While the headmaster sucked all warmth out of the room, Pogo exuded it. 

Vanya squared her shoulders and stood up straight. Pogo, a chimp if she had to guess, stood quite a bit shorter than her, which was no easy feat. That thought, at least, cheered her up from her existential crisis. As bizarre and fantastical as the past two days had been, she needed to maintain her sensibilities, if not for others, then for herself at least. She bowed her head in a show of respect. “It’s nice to meet you, Pogo.” 

Before he could respond, she jumped as the now familiar crackling blue light lit up the room and Five jumped next to her, landing with all of the grace of a cat accustomed to landing in all manners of situations. Despite witnessing his power several times now, the abruptness of his appearance surprised her enough to set her off balance. It was only Pogo’s gentle touch that righted her and kept her from slipping to the floor. She murmured her thanks to him, grateful that someone at least was looking out for her dignity, or what little there was left of it.  

“See you’ve meet Pogo.” He smirked at her for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Maybe guessing that there had been a less than stellar introduction. Perhaps he had been laughing about it this entire time, waiting for the moment, purposefully not bringing up Pogo at lunch when given the opportunity. She pursed her lips at the thought, not wanting to pursue that line of negativity. Having to second guess everyone’s intentions required more energy than she currently possessed, especially when it came to Five and his enigmatic ways. 

Pogo took Five’s materialization in stride, not even batting an eye. She supposed that watching them grow from toddlers to teenagers, Five’s antics were probably nothing new, maybe even expected and somewhat dull. “Hello Master Five. Just in time, as always.” Vanya could hear the slight reprimand hidden in his words, and so too did Five, for he scowled, then shuffled away, throwing his weight into a chair and startling Diego’s song. 

Pogo turned to her, his fondness for the children evident with the soft, loving expression that didn’t waver even as he looked on with a mild reproach at the teenager’s buffoonery. It reminded her of the way her father looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, or the way her mother had gazed at her as they practiced her Russian. She couldn’t imagine the same expression coming from the headmaster, adopted father or not, and she felt a twinge of anger that someone so meaningful and irreplaceable in their lives was incapable of demonstrating the power of love and family for them. 

Pogo lowered his voice, whispering to her in a friendly, conspiratorial tone. “They may be difficult, but they all mean well.” 

“I - yes, I can see what you mean,” she stuttered. How many times would she be told they all meant well? It was starting to get old, even if she did appreciate the lengths with which each person was willing to go to stick up for their family members. Their bonds with their father seemed tenuous and stressed, but their bonds with one other seemed far more rugged and time tested. She ignored the familiar pang of envy and shoved it down deep, to examine at a later time. 

“It’ll get easier. With time.” 

“Thank you.” 

Pogo clapped his hands together, calling for attention. Allison and Luther’s chat continued unabated, Klaus successfully pinned Ben to the floor and was locked into some playful tickle torture with Ben howling in laughter, and Five and Diego were throwing casual insults and barbed threats at one another with the kind of glee that could only come from temperamental teenage boys. Noticing the lack of response, Pogo raised his voice. “Come along now, children. Master Reginald has instructed me to bring you to Training Room C.” 

Klaus groaned dramatically, startling a giggle out of Vanya. He smirked at his accomplishment, full of boyish charm, before Ben threw him back down to the floor and stood up, brushing off invisible dust from his uniform jacket, the hint of a cocky, self satisfied smirk seeming downright devilish on his good natured face. The ease in which he tossed Klaus suggested that it’d been done many times before - especially when Klaus stood up and glomped on to Ben’s arm, chattering away as if nothing had happened as they made their way over to where Pogo and Vanya still stood. Ben’s shyness seemed to have melted away; she smiled back at him as he offered her a small grin in greeting. 

Allison and Luther trailed behind. Vanya braced for an unrelenting amount of babbling from Allison, but the other girl surprised her by focusing all of her energy solely on Luther. A small part of Vanya felt snubbed by the lack of attention afforded to her, but the larger part of her was grateful for a few more minutes of precious peace and quiet. Especially as Diego and Five, finally finished with their pissing contest, meandered over. Diego didn’t so much as acknowledge her, while Five took up the spot next to her, the both of them taking up the rear as Pogo lead them into the hall and towards their destination. Whatever strides they had made in their relationship during lunch seemed to be unimportant as they walked silently side by side, Vanya stifled by the overwhelmingly negative aura that radiated from Five. He didn’t even comment when her loafer stuck to the floor and she nearly tripped, his eyes focused only on what laid ahead. 

Klaus, still clinging to Ben, turned his head back to look at Vanya as they walked, Ben leading them around a corner. The cheerfulness she associated with him waned, a haunted look marring his jovial, expressive face. His long fingers, wrapped around Ben’s upper arm, clenched and unclenched in uneven intervals. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, and then promptly shut his mouth, whipping his head back in to position, brown curls fluttering with his movements. Ben did not acknowledge Klaus’s behaviour, merely steered him in the right direction as he had been doing. But he moved stiffly and aggressively, stomping with each step as they wandered further into the house of horrors, the small grin having vanished entirely. 

The sinking pit of anxiety in her stomach seemed only to gain more ground as the seconds ticked by. Pogo’s existence had sparked a much needed distraction, but with the freshness of his reveal fading, she could now fixate only on what was to come in the impending hours. The mysteriousness of the headmaster combined with the unethical practices he seemed keen to commit did not seem like it would produce an environment in which she would willingly enter. And yet, she felt like a marionette being lead to center stage against her will, her father and her scholarship all dangling above her to keep her the perfect submissive puppet. She held back a gag and tried to center herself - it would do her no good to enter with hostility, not when she held no strings of her own to manipulate. 

Next to her, Five lowered his head, his breath warm against her temple, and fresh with a recent bout of toothpaste. This close to him, she could smell the lingering aroma of cologne, embedded deep in the fibers of his uniform. Unlike the majority of their peers, who bathed in it, the subtle and tasteful perfume relaxed her senses. She even found herself leaning into him as he whispered, “Show him no weakness.” 

Whatever crossness she felt towards his poor social skills aside, she took his handout for what it was - an attempt at a connection. Her grim smile mirrored that on Ben’s face as she nodded, and Five stepped out of her range, face and posture closed off and unwelcoming. 

Pogo stopped at a set of metal doors, and the children split into groups around him, leaving Vanya to stand on her own, in the spotlight once more. Pogo rested a hand on the door handle, but did not pull it open. She fiddled with the ends of her uniform vest. “Miss Vanya, this is Training Room C, used primarily in the pursuit of independent studies.” He waited for her to respond before continuing on. “The other children will be continuing what they have been working on for the past few months and you will join them when you are ready. But first, I’ll be taking you to Master Reginald, per his instructions.”

The urge to argue surfaced in her mind, but she killed the notion swiftly and surely - don’t shoot the messenger, after all. She acknowledged Pogo’s words and watched as the others entered the training space with varying levels of enthusiasm, from Luther’s giddy laugh to Klaus’s hobbled shuffle, his feet leadened with clear dread. Five paused where Pogo held the door open, but he said nothing, and then entered all the same. From where she stood, she could see Luther heading towards another set of doors further back in the room and an overwhelming amount of gym equipment, but Pogo shut the door before she could see much of anything else. She couldn't even begin to imagine what sorts of trouble the kids would get up to in the pursuit of “independent studies,” but she supposed in just a short while she would be included in that chaos. 

“I am sorry Miss Vanya,” Pogo said, leading her away from the comfort of the others, “I know you would like to go with the children, but Master Reginald wishes to speak with you first. He does not take kindly to lateness; nor does he take delight in being early. It is always important to be exactly on time with him.” 

The deferential manner in which Pogo spoke of the headmaster rankled Vanya’s independent sensibilities. If her father ever caught wind of her speaking of anyone with such subservient undertones, she didn’t doubt he would have words, and none of them allowed in a PG-13 setting. Which raised the question: why would Pogo be beholden to a man who Vanya, having spent limited time with, could already sense was a cold hearted prick of a power hungry man? Did it have anything to do with why he was a humanoid chimp? 

Her curiosity aside, she weighed the pros and cons of asking Pogo about himself - and opted instead to head into more neutral ground. Whatever time they had together at the moment was clearly brief, and not enough to get into the tangled intricacies of the horrors of the Hargreeves residence. “Do you know what he wants?”

Pogo lead her around the corner and to a stairwell, an elegant spiral staircase of black iron. Now that she had explored more of the house, she could see the cobbled together nature of decorations - from the tacky and eye catching animal trophies, to the Victorian flower arrangements and vases, to the less seen modern amenities sprinkled throughout, such as the state of the art gym and pool that she had seen on their way to the training room. It reminded her a bit of her home with her father, a “clusterfuck of homeliness” as her father liked to call it. Though where their home was full of love and exuberance in the clashing aesthetics, the Hargreeves household lacked such intimate feeling, and instead felt very much like the heavy hand of the headmaster was always lurking. If she caught sight of a pair of eyeballs from a painting staring her down, she would surely decimate the place where they stood, casualties be damned.

She had to tune back in as Pogo answered her after a minor deliberation on his part. “As far as I know, he intends to discuss with you your powers, and what to work on moving forward. I know it’s a lot to take in for you all at once, but this training is for your own benefit.” When she furrowed her brow, he clarified, “With a power with a magnitude like yours, it is of the utmost importance to be certain you can control it and call upon and dismiss it as easily as if it were breathing. Master Reginald’s methods may not be conventional, but they _ are  _ geared towards helping you, as well as helping the greater good. He has a great deal of experience with such matters.” 

Vanya very much doubted the man gave a damn about the greater good, but sensing the loyalty of the butler in front of her to the man she so despised, she opted to keep her opinion to herself in lieu of counting the black and white tiles between the hallway leading from the staircase to the personal space outside of his office. In keeping with the wild mix of styles, the heavy wooden door to the office, antique in nature, stood in direct contrast to the hideous lace curtains that covered the windows on the opposite walls, not at all matching with the blue patterned wallpaper that ran the length of the room. A leather, high backed sofa was accompanied by a variety of books and a collection of paintings and various other decorations tacked to the wall, all cluttered, but dust free. Someone did the cleaning around here and Vanya had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t the headmaster. 

Pogo checked his watch, before nodding, and stepping to the side to allow her to enter, his head coming down into a bow. As he pulled the door open, it rattled on its slider. “Master Reginald, Miss Vanya is here.”

“You may enter.”

_ Yeah, but I don’t want to _ , Vanya thought nastily. 

She stepped into the room, hand held tight on her uniform vest as she heard the door slide shut. 

While his presence in the household was impossible to ignore, it was downright overwhelming in his office - not because he looked at her, because he had his head bowed while he scribbled in to a journal, but because his office was littered with signs of his abundant and unapologetic narcissism. Above his cluttered desk, a six foot portrait hung, capturing his dead, cold stare and stiff, unyielding posture perfectly. The mantle below that was littered with photographs of himself, interspersed only with vintage odds and ends and even more taxidermy. Despite the size of the room, bigger than some apartments she had lived in, Vanya felt caged in by his formidable aura.  

As he continued to scribble in his journal, she squared her shoulders and planted her feet firmly. Whatever was to come of this encounter, she needed to have her wits about her, and it made her feel safer, even if it was only a false sense of security. Five’s whispered advice, “show him no weakness,” ran through her mind in loops. 

When at last he emerged from whatever important drivel he had been consumed by, she had already grown bored of his decor and all that it represented. Regardless, she still felt a chill as he examined her. He folded his hands in front of his chin, journal still open and waiting for his input. His signature monocle remained in place, hairline fracture and all. The thin line where the glass had cut into his cheek had healed into a thin scab. 

“Number Seven, good to see you well.” 

She remained silent, but her jaw tensed at the unwanted nickname. 

He frowned, but did not comment on her lack of a greeting. “You will be joining the children in their studies shortly, but first, it is imperative that we discuss and examine your powers from all angles.” He gathered his pen in his hand. “I will be asking you a series of questions and you will answer truthfully. I will know if you are not, so do not think of lying.” He tapped his pen on his desk in three short, sharp taps, impatience radiating from him. “Understood?”   


Vanya croaked, “understood.”

“Excellent. Now, to start with, besides manifesting rain, have you ever activated your powers prior to the events of yesterday?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you don’t remember doing so - as you age, your powers will grow in intensity. There is a possibility that you would have activated them and not even been aware of doing so. Has something ever broken in your presence that you could not find a reason for doing so? Perhaps something small, or fragile?”

Vanya scoured her mind for any such peculiar incidents, but even with the clarifying information, her answer remained the same. She could remember breaking only a few things in her life, and though the memories were murky and muddled, as childhood memories are, she could say with confidence that they weren’t a result of her powers. 

He jotted down some notes, before resurfacing once more. She did not appreciate the stark contrast between his relaxed and comfortable position sitting and barking invasive questions at her, while she stood and raked her brain to answer him like some servant under his thumb. The longer she spent with him, the more she wished to cut her losses and run, but she could not give into that impulsive want. 

“Has your father ever remarked on any peculiarities growing up? Any signs that you are different from any other child? It could have been a throwaway remark, insignificant at the time.” 

Vanya’s lips thinned at the mention of her father. With anger mounting in her soul, she bit her lip to keep from blurting out her true feelings. Instead, she directed that energy into answering his question. If she was able to play this right, perhaps she could move more swiftly to the joint training she would be participating in with the others.  _ Anything  _ would be better than this.

Vanya thought back on her childhood, now that she had a clear goal in mind. Her father, a brusque man in all matters except her, had never been shy with compliments, nor stingy with his affection. While often on the road for his job, he never failed to notice the small details in her life; he often corrected her haircuts if she missed a spot, indulged her in her eclectic mug collection, and lavished her with the good ice cream after a bad day, even when she tried to hide her sour mood from him so he wouldn’t worry. Filtering through years of their innumerable conversations, only one such moment stuck out in her mind. 

“He told me…” she choked, wishing she didn’t have to relay such personal information to a human more adequately described as a robot. But she could sense his tolerance for her silence waning, and so she forged on, frowning down at the ugly carpet at her feet. “He told me once, that I had music in my veins. I wanted to quit the violin…” _ because we were poor and my lessons cost a fortune _ , she left unsaid “...and he said that to take music from me would be like stealing the breath from me - I would wither away and die if I didn’t have that connection to the world. I thought he was just being hyperbolic…” 

Was it possible he knew? He couldn’t, she didn’t want to believe it. How could he possibly? With no recollection of her fantastical feats prior to yesterday, he couldn’t possibly know. She shook her head, as if to convince herself. He would have told her, if he knew. He would have sat her down, like he did for all of their Big Talks, and he would have told her and comforted her when she didn’t believe him, but she would, eventually, because he did not lie to her. No, he must not know, she was sure of it now. In the hopeless situation she was in, she couldn’t lose hope in what little she still had left. 

The headmaster jotted down some further notes, the only sound in the room his pen moving across the paper. She fidgeted, her hair falling in front of her face. As she looked up, she steeled herself for his line of questioning to revert back to her father, but he instead asked her what emotion she felt most often when she triggered rainfall. 

And so question after question, she answered him. Sadness most often triggered rainfall; while she often felt lethargic when it rained, she could not comment on whether that was because it depleted her energy or because the rain relaxed her; she had never consciously wished for it to rain, it simply happened; nor had she channeled any thought to breaking the windows the day before. With each passing second, her resolve to make it to the next phase of the day withered into nothingness; she wished only to return home, away from prying eyes and hearts filled with expectations. But she soldiered on, feeling very much like an experiment with each of her answers being neatly tucked away into the folds of the headmaster’s journal. 

“Before we join Numbers One through Six in Training Room C, there is one more thing you must do for me Number Seven.” He stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he moseyed over to her. Without the desk between them, there was nothing to separate them, and Vanya took a step back, forgetting her mission in the moment. She corrected herself before he commented on it. “Activate your powers.” 

Vanya blinked, before stupidly grunting,“What?” 

“From what you have described to me, you seem unable to trigger your powers consciously. It takes strong emotional outbursts in order for your powers to activate, of which it seems to require very little energy from your end. However, because you are incapable of tapping into it consciously, you have little control over stopping it either. You can see how this would be a problem, yes?” 

With a sinking gut, she murmured her agreement. 

“If we work on having you actively use your powers, you will not only be able to tap into it of your own accord, but you will also be able to stop it without worry for the destruction you will leave in your wake.” 

Vanya could not argue with that logic - and so she nodded, feeling like a failure for submitting so easily. As much as she wanted to kick and scream and fight, he spoke the truth. The last thing she needed to do was trigger her powers and destroy everything in her path. 

“Use your powers to move this glass, Number Seven.” He placed a glass on a small side table he brought out for just this purpose. “Your show of strength yesterday was indeed a delight to witness, but starting small and building up to such displays will ensure a certain amount of control that you do not already possess.” 

Blah Blah Blah. Did he have to talk like that? It really accentuated the pompous old man schtick of his. A small irritant in the grand scheme of things, but one she could at least mock in the sanctity of her own mind. 

“I have my reservations that you will be able to achieve such mastery in a short length of time - however, I am always ready for surprises.” 

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the glass. From what she could remember from yesterday, she had been angry and hurt. She had wanted to lash out but knew she lacked the proper strength to do so, and always had, petite frame and meek nature creating a docile creature out of her. But what she remembered most was the amplified beat of her heart. While flustered and annoyed, her heart rate remained steady and consistent, but she attempted to block out all other sounds and senses, honing in on the repetitive thrum. 

When she opened her eyes what felt like several minutes later, she could tell she had not accomplished what he needed of her, for his face twisted into a mockery of disappointment. 

And despite that meek and docile nature of hers, and the disappointment of being unable to conjure her powers on a whim, she relished in the sweet revenge of not giving him what he wanted. 

He returned to his journal, his words written with such aggression, she could hear the paper protest. 

“Very well,” he said, snapping the book shut. “This shall have to be done the hard way.”

The hard way?

“For now Number Seven, we shall be joining your siblings. Come along now.”

And Vanya, stupefied, trotted behind him. 

 

\-------

 

Vanya tugged at the uncomfortable high collar of the track suit that had been foisted upon her upon her entry into Training Room C. Not only was it hot and too large, forcing her to cuff the pants for fear of tripping, but it was ugly. Sinfully ugly, really. A bright green, adorned with white stripes. A staple perhaps, in her home country, or even in some of her gym classes but she wrinkled her nose at the thing all the same. The crisp white tennis shoes given to her were a lot less offensive. 

She looped her hair into a loose bun, tucking the stray pieces around the frayed band. She caught her reflection in the full length mirror bolted to the wall on the opposite side of her changing station. Her cheeks appeared ruddy and her lips cracked and dry. She licked them, and then took a deep breath. 

The others had already been engaged in a variety of training exercises when she had been finally admitted into the gym. Luther, his track suit jacket open to reveal a build no teenager should possess, had been working on a series of quick pull ups, while Allison practiced on the mat next to him, sinking into a perfect split while reading a magazine that she hastily shoved away when the headmaster caught sight of it. In a corner of the room, Diego practiced whipping his knives around the circle of dummy heads he placed around him, switching hands and angles for more variety. Five popped in and out of the room - no different than any other day, though she couldn’t say if he was building up his stamina or just how to get on his siblings nerves, as he kept scaring them with his sudden appearances and disappearances. Ben and Klaus had been in another corner, and Vanya had not seen what they were getting up to, remembering with a sickening drop of her stomach what powers the headmaster had detailed they had. It was no wonder that they, out of all their siblings, dreaded their training the most. 

If she had failed with her powers, then her physical abilities were really about to send dear old Reginald Hargreeves into an early grave. The thought almost, but not quite, made her chuckle, remembering her past grievances with gym classes. Instead, she bit her tongue on accident, teared up at the pain, and then, in the best hope of just getting on with the shit show, entered the room, thinking that nothing else could possibly go wrong. 

She was, of course, horribly wrong. 

“To be a member of the Umbrella Academy, you must possess the proper attributes. One must, of course, be in possession of a power, but they must also be capable of holding their own against any threat, be it mental or physical. Your scholarly pursuits are more than taken care of, but your physical capabilities have come up short.” Vanya ignored the snort from the peanut gallery, but recognized Allison’s voice as she hissed at what must have been Luther to shut up. “Your siblings have been in training since they were young and you have much to catch up on. Today, we will do assessment tests.” He clapped his hands and Pogo whipped out a stop watch from the pocket of his pants, a clip board already in hand. “We shall start with stretching and head right into a mile run.” 

_ I’m going to die _ , she thought, before dropping down to stretch her legs. 

 

\-------

 

Five was not a man of idle distractions - he left that for Klaus, infamously distracted by anything and everything, whether he was high, drunk or sober. But even he had trouble focusing on training with their latest addition bumbling about. Having grown up training to disarm and dismember people from a young age, he could not begin to relate to the cataclysmic show unfolding in front of their very eyes. 

Vanya must have  _ really _ pissed the old man off in the half hour she had been trapped with him in his office. Five hadn’t seen him take such sadistic glee in a punishment since Luther and Allison had been forcibly separated for a week, their codependency turning the both of them into absolute nightmares, but perfect pawns for the old bastard. A power play of epic proportions, at least according to Klaus, who had been working overtime to comfort Allison’s sniffles and cries while stifling his own. Diego had taken up Luther’s side by baiting him into releasing his anger in numerous sparring sessions that crossed the line into physical torture, even by Five’s questionable standards. The rotten bastard had looked on while his children scrambled to fix the mess he’d thrust upon them, much like a child shakes a snow globe and watches the snowflakes batter the glass. Five could not even remember the transgression that had preceded that punishment, but nothing had compared until now. 

Five dropped into a squat, groaning, his hands resting on his knees as they shook. The short break from spatial jumping - allowable, as their father would say in that annoying uptight manner of his - afforded him the time to watch Vanya’s struggles up close and personal. 

His first assessment of her, from the day before, rang true - she was not at all physically capable. The few push ups she managed to complete were modified, balancing herself on her knees instead of her toes; her run, choppy and uncoordinated, wasted valuable time and energy; though flexible and light on her feet, she was clueless about any sort of gymnastics, or acrobatic work, rendering that talent useless for the time being; the only compliment he could bestow upon her for the moment was that her sit ups exceeded his expectations, but he could not be certain if that was because the rest of her showing was so poor, or because she actually showed good form and decent capabilities. 

He grabbed for his water bottle and stood upright, wincing at the sharp pain in his skull. He massaged his temple, hoping for the pain to fuck off, and knowing it wouldn’t. In his desperation, he’d overtaxed himself once again. He scowled, tempted to throw the damn thing like a baby with an empty bottle, but he composed himself before he could give in to his childish whims. 

Despite the hell their dear old father was putting her through, Vanya clearly wasn’t ready to crack under the stress. Oh sure, her face was red and coated in a thick and shifting layer of oil and grime, and she had long since ditched her jacket, the arms of her baggy t-shirt stained with sweat, but her jaw remained tense with concentration and she never deviated from the instructions barked at her. His lingering stares were ignored, even though he knew she didn’t appreciate being under such close supervision. 

His eyes shifted to Hargreeves and Pogo. The chimp, a kind hearted fool in the shadow of a sadist, winced with each of Vanya’s rattling, wheezing breaths. Hargreeves, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with keeping his annoyance from permeating his demeanor. Perhaps he had gotten his hopes up too high, Five thought to himself. While Vanya’s powers had limitless destructive capabilities, her own physical abilities seemed to pale in comparison, though understandable for someone of her size and nature, someone untrained and untested in combat roles. Why Hargreeves would think that she would excel in such matters on the first day remained a mystery to Five - the old coot usually had more sense than whimsy to him after all. 

Feeling Pogo’s gaze upon him, Five returned to his practice, unwilling to draw their father’s negativity to himself. The man was gearing up to be in a  _ delightful  _ mood, and Five, for once, did not wish to push him further into madness. He jumped to where Allison had taken up residence jumping rope, then over to Diego. Even though Hargreeves had been pushing him towards extending his range and his stamina, his limits remained nearly the same as they had been months ago, and the rage that stemmed from such an admittance drove him towards recklessness on more than one occasion. 

He took a moment to take a breath. He still had plenty of time. His equations were coming along nicely, the old man’s occasional quips armed with helpful information to speed the process along. Once his body was ready for the strain it would go under once he jumped, he would just need to bide his time. 

With that thought, he took another break, recognizing, as all of them did, that his father had finally reached his breaking point.

“Children! To the center, now.” 

Five winced as he strode towards where their father stood, looming over a panting Vanya. She rested on her knees, body bowed in pain, face pointed towards the floor. Klaus edged towards her, and when their father made no snapping remark, gently offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up to her feet, so she stood alongside them. She wobbled, but he recognized the mark of a stubborn soul in her - she wouldn’t show him weakness so easily. 

“As you have probably seen today, Number Seven’s athletic abilities are severely lacking. She possesses little stamina, speed or strength, and her body is ill suited towards the pursuits that most of you have been working towards your whole lives.” 

Yeah, yeah, Five thought. If he didn’t wish to court death, he would have hand waved away the self indulgent rant, but he knew better - the last time his disobedience had offended their father, he’d been subjected to the most grueling round of academic and physical torture that had ever been created. While the old man often indulged his rebellious streaks, he did not take kindly to disrespect in the name of anger. 

“With that statement, I hope that you understand that you will be helping Number Seven adjust to life in the Umbrella Academy.”

Wait, what?

“Number Seven will attend private lessons with me daily. Once those lessons come to an end for the day, she shall come to work with you. It will not only build camaraderie between all of you, but it shall increase her abilities without detriment to your own training.” 

Vanya seemed incapable of emoting, given her extreme exhaustion, but there was a ripple of surprise at the forgiving nature of the man’s speech. No harsh words, no blame, nothing - it was as if he actually cared, in his own way. 

Five wanted to vomit. 

“Number Three, you had a suggestion?” 

Allison, still full of poise even after her workout, stepped forward from the pack. “I think that swimming would really benefit Number Seven,” she said. It became clear to Five, as she continued talking, highlighting all the positives swimming could bring, that Allison had already discussed this with the old man. The irritation that had clung to him since Vanya’s entrance to his office appeared to disappear, Allison’s silver tongue working to weave him the image he wanted most of all - their cooperation. 

“I agree, Number Three,” Hargreeves finally said, cutting off Allison before she could steam on ahead in her tirade. “I do believe that Number Seven would benefit from such training. Number Two, as the strongest swimmer, you will work with Number Seven one on one tomorrow. The others shall also take a break from regularly scheduled training.” Pogo, surprised, wrote down the change in scheduling on his clipboard, his brow furrowed. Five, though he didn’t show it, felt much the same. “Number Seven,” Hargreeves said, turning back to the main topic of discussion, “I have my doubts, but are you perhaps an owner of a modest and tasteful one piece swimsuit?”

Vanya shook her head, her bun sagging further with her movements.

“Very well. Number Three, you will accompany Number Seven to the store to purchase such a swimsuit. Grace will give you the adequate funds, and you will return before lights out.” The threat of punishment should she disobey his unspoken rules remained unsaid. He clapped his hands, startling all of them. “For now, we shall cut today short. Be thankful for this break and do not waste such an opportunity.” With that, the old man turned his back and left, Pogo following on his heels. 

For a moment, all was still. Then Klaus, big mouthed as always, turned to Allison and whooped. “Way to go sister! How the hell did you wrap him around your little finger like that?”

Allison, all smug energy and smirks, replied, “I used what he wanted against him.”

Five rolled his eyes. Even without her power, Allison’s manipulations worked even against their father. If Vanya had an ounce of self preservation in that tiny little body of hers, she would surely be wary of the kind of sisterhood Allison was craving. But he was beginning to think her a masochist, as she offered Allison a true smile. 

 

\-------

Vanya tried not to let Allison see her body as they tidied up in the locker room. Allison showed her where the shower was located, and as soon as Allison stepped away to give her privacy, Vanya stripped down and fled into the stall, scrubbing at her body with the fruity scented body wash left in the shower. She left her hair up and away from her face, promising herself that she would wash it later (knowing damn well that she wouldn’t.)

She turned the water off and snatched up the towel waiting for her. She dried off, looped the towel over her body, and then quickly scurried over to change into her uniform, thankful that as she dressed, Allison showered, thankfully not emerging even as Vanya finished patting her uniform into place. Whatever peace Vanya had made with her body before this experience, she still remained uncomfortable with others seeing her naked and vulnerable. 

As Allison finished up, Vanya exited the locker room, giving her her own space to dress. Exhaustion anchored her to the spot as she leaned against the wall, fighting back sleep. Her legs screamed at her to sit, but she knew if she sat down now, she wouldn’t be getting back up. 

Five emerged shortly after her, white towel wrapped around his shoulders. He had shed the uniform jacket and instead wore only the sweater vest, the jacket looped over his arm casually. He cocked his hip to the side as he came to stand next to her, blissfully silent. The events of the day had numbed her to his brand of weirdness. She could not decipher if he wanted to be friends or not - he had, emphatically, made clear that she was not to be a sister to him, but he had not elaborated on what it was that he  _ did _ want. And quite frankly, she did not have the brain cells ready to fire up and work on that topic, so she laid it to rest. 

Her mind worked sluggishly as she tried to think about what was left to do in the day. Allison’s grand plan worked and now they would be spending time together, shopping for swimsuits. Unease at having to try on clothing with Allison, just the two of them, spurred her to thinking about other things.

“Five?” she said, voice quiet. He grunted, so she took that as an okay to continue. “Who is Grace?”

“Grace is our mom,” he replied promptly. And then, without provocation, Five leaned in close, his lips nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Mom is a robot. Try not to let that get to you, or Momma’s Boy over there is going to have a field day with his knives.” She shivered, feeling the air shift against her as he nodded in Diego’s direction, who emerged from the locker room as he spoke - as if she couldn’t figure out which one of them was most likely to  _ stab _ her. 

Then his words caught up to her. Her sigh rivaled that of a bitter, crusty old man as she just said, “I shouldn’t even be surprised any more.”

Tingles crawled down her spine as Five laughed, a breathy, quiet sound. “Now you’re catching on.”  

“Ready to go?” 

It spoke to how tired Vanya was that she didn’t even jump when Allison appeared at her shoulder. Five lingered for a second, and she waited for him to speak. But then he walked away without a goodbye, meeting up with Diego and picking back up on that battle of wits they had been engaged in earlier. She couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed, thankful at least for the heads up about their robotic mother - she could now lay to rest the paranoid thoughts that revolved around Pogo’s introduction and where Five stood with her in regards to that.  

Vanya kicked off from the wall. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, trying for a bright smile, to match Allison’s. It seemed to work, for Allison noticeably perked up, chattering to Vanya as she lead her to where Grace could be found.

Grace was...classic, was the best word Vanya could think of. Her beautiful blonde hair tied into an intricate updo that looked effortless, that unsmudged, unyielding red lip, and her beautiful, swishy petticoats and skirt really evoked the image of the perfect homemaker. Vanya felt a rush of affection for her, even knowing what she really was. But if she could give Pogo a chance, she could certainly give Grace one. 

Grace smiled, pearly white teeth pristine and straight. “Hello Vanya darling,” she said, with the utmost sincerity, “I have been waiting to meet you! You are just as beautiful as I had imagined.”   


“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you too,” Vanya worked out. She was very grateful that no one save Allison was here for this particular introduction, remembering the disaster of her introduction to Pogo. Grace’s humanoid exterior made Vanya more comfortable than she could say of Pogo’s biology, as sad as it was to admit to herself. While made of mechanical bits and parts, she embodied a human enough that Vanya was able to relax and talk normally. 

Grace laughed, a tinkling, beautiful sound that Vanya envied. “Master Hargreeves has given me money and directions for the two of you,” she said, slipping a hand into her apron pocket and withdrawing a stack of money that had Vanya’s eyes bulging out of their sockets. “And Allison dear, do remember your father’s tastes when it comes to clothing - the more modest the better!” 

Allison accepted the money and piece of paper, with heavily blocked words with arrows. “Got it Mom!” She tugged on Vanya’s arm, causing her to stumble. “We’ll see you later!” she shouted over her shoulder. 

“Goodbye!” Vanya yelled, catching Grace’s cheerful wave goodbye before they sprinted outside.

Vanya relished in the sweet taste of freedom as they exited the manor. Allison seemed to enjoy it too, for the spring in her step doubled as they walked the length of the campus, Allison consulting the directions to the store they were to head to. While the day had been jam packed with action, it was not yet night out, and so they still had plenty of time to accomplish their task. With September soon on the horizon, Vanya was looking forward to the shift to autumn, counting down the days till sweater weather dominated. 

“Okay, so the store isn’t that far away,” Allison babbled, still looking at the piece of paper, “Which is good, because we can take all the time in the world in there then! I haven’t been able to go shopping in so long,” she gushed. “We don’t get to leave the manor much, or else I would be hitting up the shops every day.”

Before Allison could work herself into a verbal frenzy, Vanya cut in with, “what kind of bathing suit are we looking for exactly?” 

“For Dad, we’re totally going for a simple one piece, in black, maybe black and white if we’re trying to be fancy. He’s a total authoritarian when it comes to our clothing - we don’t even attend the regular academy but he still makes us wear uniforms every day. It’s super lame.” Allison steered them towards a crosswalk and they waited patiently for the traffic to let up before crossing. When they made it to the other side, Allison picked right back up talking. “He gave us enough money to get you a second swimsuit though, so  _ I  _ think you need a bikini, and I  _ know _ Klaus agrees with me. He would have come if Dad let him, but Dad’s big on all that gender essentialist crap.” 

“Wait, a bikini? Why would I need a bikini?”

“Vanya, you’re a total babe.” Allison smiled at a cute boy that walked around them in the opposite direction, and Vanya wasn’t even surprised when the guy stopped in his tracks. She would bet good money that he was still watching them as they walked away. The ease and confidence in which Allison moved in the world with was awe inspiring and Vanya wished she could bottle it up and feed it to herself. “You have that slim model-esque build to you, and a sweet face. Surely you know that, right?” 

Vanya blinked stupidly. In all her years, she had never once been complimented on her body. The lingering stares Allison attracted had never been part of her daily life. “I uh, thanks? I think?” She tugged at the end of her uniform, self consciousness bubbling to the surface. “I’m not really...well, confident in my body, I guess.” 

Allison’s smile was kind as she said, “By the end of this trip, you will be!”

When they entered the store, Allison immediately beelined for the racks of bikinis on display, on sale now that summer’s end was in reach. Vanya followed her, and responded to her as they talked, but she found herself much more comfortable with the rack of one piece swimsuits. A fair few of them featured more skin than she thought appropriate, given the parameters they were given, but she found two that fit the bill, and ignored the price tags associated with them, wanting to remain ignorant. She selected her size and looped the hangers over her arms, coming to stand next to Allison as she continued on about the bathing suits, seemingly torn about what color would look best on Vanya. 

“You could really pull off red, it would go so well with your skin. But a navy, that would make your eyes pop!” Vanya allowed Allison another minute to stew in fashion knowledge, enjoying all the compliments the other girl was showering her in. She had been dreading the expectations of sisterhood she felt Allison had been harbouring, but the girl seemed to be more excited to be out of the house than in bonding in particular. This allowed Vanya to lighten up and she found herself joking with Allison as they combed through the racks. 

When all was said and done, Vanya had her two one piece swimsuits, approved by Allison, while Allison had hand selected five bikinis in varying colors and styles. Though Vanya wanted nothing more than to slink into bed and allow sleep to soften her muscle aches and pains, she found herself enjoying Allison’s company. 

“Okay, so I’ll wait out here,” Allison said, as they came up to the changing rooms. She plopped herself down on the luxury bench that faced a wall of mirrors, and crossed her legs, performing the prim and proper lady routine Vanya assumed their father ate up. If any of them were capable of controlling the headmaster, it was surely Allison. Her way with words struck Vanya not only as a distinct part of her personality, but also as an extension of her powers. “As much as I want to see you in the bikinis, I understand if you don’t want to show me.” 

Vanya thanked her and took the hangers from her. She wanted to please Allison and show her the bikinis, but she also wanted to preserve her modesty. She nibbled on her lip as she walked into an open dressing room, locking the door behind her. She hung the swim suits up on a hook, and then caught her reflection in the mirror. 

On the walk over, she had unraveled her bun, allowing her hair to cascade down her back, an ever so slight wave in it from where the hair tie had rested. Her cheeks were flushed with color - a healthy amount of color this time - and though every small movement hurt, she couldn’t tell based on her outward appearance. She turned her back on the mirror as she shimmied into the first of the one piece suits. She discarded it as soon as she noticed how high the back of the suit crept up her butt, thankful that the next option, another black suit, fit and showed much less skin. She hung that suit up on another hook, to make sure she didn’t mix them up and then she paused as she examined the bikinis Allison worked so hard to pick out. 

Vanya was immediately drawn to the pink bikini Allison had picked up upon first entering the boutique. The soft pink color of the ruffled swimsuit stood in stark contrast to the red strings of the tops and bottoms, but unlike most of the other bikinis, which highlighted cleavage she didn’t possess, this one was a banded top which covered her chest entirely. The ruffles of the top seemed to extend further down her chest. On a whim, she wrangled herself into it.

As she gazed into the mirror, she found herself actually in awe. The soft pink color, that she often thought of as suited only towards blondes, actually complimented the natural flush of her skin, and the modest cut of the top allowed her to feel confident that she wouldn’t flash some poor stranger. She still wished the bikini bottoms were shorts instead, but she could live with her thighs on display. 

“Allison?”

“Yes?”

Vanya danced on her tiptoes, and then winced at the pain. “I found a winner,” she said. “One of the bikinis, that is.”

“Really? Oh my god, which one?”

Vanya appreciated her enthusiasm. She swung upon the door, and was greeted with a veritable tidal wave of compliments. If this was all an act, Vanya didn’t want to believe it. 

 

\-------

 

After they paid for the two suits, Vanya tried to slip away to retreat home, as Allison assumed she would. Allison knew that despite the synergy between them, Vanya was still wary of them all. She likened her to a small animal being presented to a pack of wild predators - it was only natural to feel out of sorts!

However, Allison was nothing if not persistent. “I”ll walk you home,” she said, not allowing for Vanya to interject. “It isn’t even curfew yet, and Dad will want to know that you made it safe and sound.” 

Vanya opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Triumphant, Allison tried not to voice her victory out loud as she walked besides Vanya. With her skills, it would not be at all hard to work her way into the apartment, especially with Vanya’s exhaustion clouding her better judgement. To keep her on her toes though, Allison thought she might as well bring up the subject that had been plaguing her mind, killing two birds with one stone. 

“Saw you talking to Five before I came out of the locker room.”

“Hm? Oh yeah, he was telling me Grace was, well, a robot.” Vanya fiddled with the thick, luxury bags her swimsuits had been divided into. “He must have took pity on me for reacting to Pogo like I did. Told me Diego would slice and dice me if I was rude to her.”

“Oh, definitely. Diego’s a Momma’s boy through and through.” While she couldn’t argue with that assessment - no one could, it was just an objective fact - she couldn't wrap her mind around Five willingly giving away such valuable information without any gain for himself. The arrogant bastard hoarded knowledge like a dragon hoarded jewels, and he didn’t much like sharing. “You seemed pretty comfortable with Five though. He was like, all up in your space.”

She watched Vanya’s face for signs of deceit, but Allison could see only confusion. “Does he not normally do that?”

Oh boy. 

Allison shook her head and fit her face with the most sincere look of contemplation she could manage. “Five is...well, he’s Five. He’s the only one of us that rejected a normal name, you know. Mom gave us all names when we were elementary school aged, but he told her he didn’t want another name. He’s always been an odd duckling like that. But I’ve never seen him imprint on someone so fast.” 

Vanya didn’t respond and Allison didn’t push the subject. Five’s actions were starting to show a clear pattern towards their dear little sister, but she certainly wouldn’t call what he was doing brotherly in the least. When she had seen how close the two of them stood together, she could have mistaken them for a couple! Five, who still seemed to think that everyone had cooties and avoided human touch like it would give him the plague, standing next to a girl?  _ Completely _ scandalous.

And very useful information to store for a rainy day. 

Vanya stopped suddenly in front of an antique store. “I live upstairs,” she said, her cheeks reddening under Allison’s scrutiny. 

“Fantastic! Lead the way!” 

Vanya tilted her head, starting to say “Wha-”

“-I did say I would walk you home and I intend upon walking you right into your doorway!” Allison made her voice as chipper as she could. 

Vanya seemed likely to protest, but Allison cut her off again, asking her, “so how do you get upstairs? Inside this doorway, or is there another entrance?” 

For a second, Allison saw a flicker of anger cross Vanya’s face and she worried that Vanya was about to bomb the block. But just as quickly as the anger rose, it dissipated and Vanya’s shoulders slumped. “This way,” Vanya gestured towards the side of the building, where a side entrance opened up into a stairwell. The building smelled faintly of must, old people and wood, the carpet frayed and sun damaged. The railing to the stairs felt gummy to the touch, and Allison retracted her hand from it, glad that she had followed behind Vanya so the other girl couldn’t see her reaction. 

When they reached the landing, Vanya started digging in her bag, fishing out a pair of keys. But when they reached the door, Vanya just said, “Oh, Dad’s home!” and hurried to unlock the door, Allison on her heels. 

When the door opened, Vanya yelled, “Dad!” and before Allison could react, Vanya was swept up into a bear hug, her feet leaving the floor and dangling uselessly in the air. The sound of Vanya’s laughter filled the otherwise still air and Allison found herself smiling at Vanya’s joy. Whatever jealousy she felt at their good relationship, she could admit to herself that Vanya deserved it - Allison had her siblings and Grace and Pogo, as fucked up as each of them were, but Vanya had only her father for support in this cruel world. 

Allison lingered at the doorway as the two members of the household finally let go of each other. She couldn’t let Vanya lock her out now, not when she was so close, so she stepped onto the welcome mat that laid at the door, and waited for Vanya’s dad to finally pay her mind.

While she knew they were not biologically related, she was still surprised to see little relation between them. His brown hair curled every so slightly at the ends, and his face was chubbier than Vanya’s, dark circles ringing his under eyes. Most alarmingly, Vanya’s father stood taller even than Luther, towering over the both of them, but especially petite little Vanya. His expression hardened for a second as he caught her gaze, but she blinked, and then he was all smiles, offering her a pudgy hand that she took with a bit of trepidation. 

“Hello! And who might you be?”   


“Dad, this is Allison. She’s from my school.” 

“Oh!” He shook her hand with vigor. “Nice to meet you Allison.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

“You can call me Hazel.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...ya'll still excited for Vanya's Dad?


	8. Mission Report

Allison had grown accustomed to the comfort and familiarity of belonging. Among her siblings, she knew she wasn’t as mathematically inclined as Five, nor as creatively spirited as Ben; she wasn’t as indestructible as Luther, nor as swift as Diego; and dear Klaus, for all his faults, had a humor that tickled all of them, even Five at his most vexing, and she couldn’t hope to shine a light to his easy ways. But she had carved out a place for herself with each of them, in the dramatic retellings of plays with Ben, the late night chats with Luther about the future, the punishing and grueling debates she shared with an obstinate Diego, the relaxation of painting Klaus’s nails, and even Five, despite his air of stoicism, found it in his itty bitty heart to welcome her here and there, slipping her books he thought she might like to read, and offering her extra portions of food when that time of the month arrived. It may not be conventional, but it was hers.

Even amongst the adults of the house, she found herself far more at ease than her siblings. Their father, regardless of his innumerable faults, relied on her powers when necessary, allowing her certain freedoms for her cooperation - access to fashion and celebrity magazines, additional pocket money for her to spend on clothing and makeup. Pogo turned to her as a source of mediation for when raising his voice wasn’t enough to garner control. Even Grace, perhaps as part of her coding, treated her like a princess amongst paupers, allowing her special privileges the boys were not allowed, and set aside time for them to share where even Diego was turned away.

The instances in which she’d taken freedom for herself, she had found it easy and natural to socialize, with or without the use of her powers. Klaus’s general demeanor allowed him to interact with the outside world as well, but the others often struggled with civility in a world they were kept sheltered from. Ben’s shyness didn’t allow him to speak his mind in front of others, Five kept his head firmly shoved into his notebooks, and Luther and Diego often found themselves, as usual, arguing over control, when Diego wasn’t trying to look smooth for whatever pretty girl caught his eye.

But as she sat at the kitchen table, her legs shaking where they rested on her lopsided bar stool, she felt, for the first time, acutely alone and uncomfortable.

She frowned as she wrapped her fingers around the cup of too-sweet lemonade Hazel had plopped in front of her when he’d shuffled them inside, the plastic cup sweating as the ice melted in the unrelenting heat. Unlike the house, AC cranked up to combat the humidity, the apartment had only a few fans working over time, merely blowing the humidity from one location to another.

Next to her, Vanya sipped her drink from a metal straw, taking breaks to stab and drown the blocks of ice in childlike glee, the heat seemingly rolling off of her. For the first time since they’d met, she looked utterly at peace, the anxious wrinkle in her brow absent, a fun loving smile reaching all the way to her eyes. She rolled her feet where they hooked over the ledge of her stool, her elbow balanced on the scuffed kitchen island they called a “table.”

For as comfortable as Vanya was, Allison felt the complete and utter opposite - a chill ran up her spine and she fought to keep herself from displaying such blatant disrespect, feeling Hazel’s attentions split between his daughter and herself. As Allison and Vanya occupied the only seats in the kitchen, he remained standing on the opposite side of the island, remaining quite a bit taller than them even in their raised stools. While Vanya chatted with him enthusiastically, relaying an edited version of the past two days to him, Allison found herself tuning out her sister, opting to focus her energies on understanding the enigmatic father figure.

Hazel, as he had asked to be called, appeared no more interesting than the average person once you took away his impressive height. His face was a bland kind of average, his build unremarkable, and his cheap and unfitted suit only highlighted the black braces he had strapped to his wrists. His motions were robotic as he shuffled around the cubby they called a kitchen, altogether too burly for such a cramped space. She wouldn’t spare him a second glance on the street.

He reminded her, in a way, of Vanya.

Hazel, bent over the island in his efforts to avoid the low hanging ceiling light, smiled at Vanya as she recalled a conversation with a classmate, someone named Alex. Allison stowed the name away for later - oh what would that information do to Five? - and politely sipped on her lemonade, thanking Hazel as he refilled her glass from a plastic pitcher that couldn’t look more off in his giant bear paws. Even as he turned away from his daughter to place the pitcher back into the humming refrigerator, his body language betrayed his interest in the conversation, his head tilted so that his ear was always pointed their way. The softest of smiles graced his features as he gazed at his daughter.

Allison frowned down at her glass. None of this was adding up. None of it!

“What about you, Allison? School been treating you well?”

She filled herself with unnatural pep, and slapped on an award winning grin, as natural as breathing. “Oh yes, of course,” she gushed, putting in just the right inflection in her voice to showcase enthusiasm. Parents liked that, right? At the very least, the conversation would be killing two birds with one stone. “The Academy really is the perfect place for advanced learning. Modern technology and traditional values really keep the place a step above the other schools.” (Not that she had ever stepped foot into another school, but that fact was not pertinent to her needs at the moment.)

Vanya shot her a cutting glare from the side, but Allison ignored her. “It’s truly the perfect place for Vanya. Her skills on the violin are unmatched, even amongst the other band members. Her talent will get her far, and her sweet disposition will get her even farther.” She jabbed her elbow into Vanya’s side in a playful, but pointed manner, and Vanya grunted, massaging the area. 

“I take it that is how you two met then?”

Vanya, still massaging her ribs, nodded her head in confirmation, but added no more, instead returning to her glass of lemonade and downing it, leaving no room for conversation. Had Allison miscalculated Vanya’s abilities to lie to her father? Lying came as second nature in the Academy, but Vanya’s unwillingness to expand upon the lie Allison created put Allison in an awkward spot. They didn’t share traditional classes together (what did the other kids even learn about anyways?) nor did Allison know a lick about what a proper school band looked like. They had nothing to bind them together that they could honestly discuss in front of her father.

“I play the guitar,” Allison settled upon, thinking of Diego and that stupid little thing he would sometimes strum down in the kitchen with Mom, beaming even when he hit the wrong note. “I’m not nearly as talented as Vanya here, but I make do.” She rested her hand on Vanya’s shoulder, cognizant of the way Hazel intently took in all of their interactions. Despite his clear love for Vanya, she could not shake the unflattering comparison she was drawing between him and her own father, both of them eagle eyed and critical of outsiders by nature.

But unlike her father, she still had one trump card to play that would draw his attention away from her. “She’s very popular with the other band members, Ford can’t get _enough_ of her playing.”

Allison felt Vanya freeze, at the same time as Hazel said, “Ford?”

“Oh yeah, Ford, he’s another friend of ours. He plays the clarinet - he’s a genius!” Oh, if only Five could hear her now - he hated the name Grace had blessed him with and if there was one instrument Five would play, it surely would not be a clarinet. She could picture his grumpy, pissed off cherub face clear as day and contained the giggles that were threatening to bubble up at her own imagination. Next to her, Vanya attempted to silence her, kicking her in the shin, but now that she had started, she couldn’t stop. “Vanya and Ford, they really share a lot in common. I’m surprised Vanya didn’t mention him while she was talking about school, they really hit it off.” Two truths and a lie, that was a game right? Well in Allison’s case, two lies and a truth sounded much better, and she could make that work in _any_ narrative.

Hook line and sinker, the focus shifted from Allison back to a nervous, fidgeting Vanya.

Hazel did not erupt into a righteous fury, as Allison had half hoped he would. He did not plunge into anger or disgust either. Instead, he looked very much like the cat about to eat a canary. He brought his hands up to his hips and leaned over the counter. “ _Two_ boys, Vanya?” he said, with a teasing lilt to his voice.

With skin as pale as Vanya’s, concealing any kind of blush seemed an impossible feat. So Vanya...slapped her hands in front of her face, bent over the table, and groaned. “Daaaaad! It’s not like that!”

Allison fought back the inclination to scowl, even as she felt a sliver of amusement towards her sister’s childish antics. Memories of such impertinent talk earning her the kinds of punishments Vanya clearly could not begin to fathom soured her slow rising mood, even as her manipulations played out in front of her like a perfectly crafted movie. Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands, and the flicker of pain allowed her to calm herself enough that she was able to tune back into the conversation at hand.

“Oh Vanya, let your dear old dad tease you for once!” Hazel chuckled, reaching over and mussing up Vanya’s hair. Her bangs went askew, his large bear paws getting trapped in her hair. She yelped, and swatted his hand away, parting with a few strands of her hair for her impatience. “At least tell me about him. You’ve never mentioned any boys to me before.”

Vanya remained quiet in her self contained shelter. Allison could not tell if it was because she was trying to keep her mouth shut to keep from lying or because she was being a stubborn, tight lipped goat.

“Oooorrr, I could always ask Allison here. She seems open to gossip.” Hazel winked at her, a big, goofy production. Allison’s lips twitched into a smile, then an outright grin as Vanya bolted upright, a look of objection painted clearly on her delicate features.

“He’s just a boy we both know, Dad.” She crossed her arms against her chest and lowered her gaze. “He’s kind of rude, actually.” She bit her lip, eyes unfocused. “But he’s not that bad, I guess.”

_Better work on that game, Five_ , Allison thought.

“Such high praise! What do you think of him, Allison? Is he good enough for Vanya?”

Allison weighed her pros and cons - as much fun as it was to shit talk her siblings, she didn’t want to ruin the one shot Five could have at a positive future, one without marrying himself to the unloving loneliness of equations and chalk dust and nubbed pencils.

“He’s very intelligent. Logical. Hard working. He has plans for the future and nothing will divert him from them. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he always makes up for it.” Of all their siblings, Five had the hardest exterior to break, no one would argue that, but Allison cherished the moments where he allowed himself the indignity of being soft, and loving, and even brotherly, in his own way.

“Sounds like you know him well.”

Despite the definitive tone of Hazel’s statement, Allison sensed the unspoken question within. “I do,” she said simply.

“Enough interrogating my friend, Dad.” Vanya stepped down from her stool, and gestured to Allison to do the same. “You’ve seen the kitchen, let me show you the rest of the apartment.” Though no part of Vanya seemed stern, Allison sensed the underlying threat underneath her words. Whatever relationship Vanya had with Five, now or in the future, it was clear she did not want her father involved. Allison filed that nugget of information away to use at a later date.

Knowing better than to argue, Allison shrugged and trotted behind a silently fuming Vanya.

\-------

  
Vanya could not say what game Allison was playing. Mentioning Five - when Vanya had gone out of her way to avoid that sticky subject - was a blatant power move, but for what purpose? To taunt her? To get her back for not expanding upon a lie Vanya had no part in crafting? Allison’s manipulations, with or without her powers, rankled Vanya’s sensibilities. Five might be a jerk, and at times an enigma, but at least he wasn’t a liar. Diego’s aggression towards her let her know where she stood with him. But with Allison, it felt like it changed every other minute. Sometimes she was sweet, but between the expectations she had of what a sisterly bond would look like, and the lies that spilled forth from her lips as easily as truths...it left Vanya in a state of limbo.

So Vanya shoved her anger down deep. There was no use to letting it fester, even more so under the watch of her father, who may be puttering around the kitchen to give them privacy, but who clearly had one ear attuned to their hijinks. She had never been able to invite a friend over to any of their many residencies, and despite the new, uncharted territory, he was taking it all in stride.

Allison trailed her around the apartment, oohing and awwing when appropriate, authentic or not. Vanya knew the little apartment must seem underwhelming when Allison lived in a literal mansion, but what their apartment lacked in riches, it made up for in love. Vanya thrived on looking for a good bargain, and she delighted in finding the odd and beautiful, from the mint colored bookcase she kept her books and odds and ends displayed in, to the bizarre silver tree-shaped lamp she had displayed against the longest wall of the apartment. She arranged the photos around the branches, all in mismatching frames. She poured hours into the project, and even though it seemed silly and childish, she felt her pride purr as Allison complimented her on the job, sincerity for once not in question.

Allison lingered at the photo frames, a complicated expression forming on her face. Vanya followed Allison’s gaze, finding her focused on one of the rare few photos of her mother they’d managed to salvage. “You look just like her, “ she whispered, a wisp of some softer emotion lightening her grave tone.

“That’s what Dad always tells me,” Vanya whispered back. There was no doubt her thick, brown hair and her slight build came from her mother. And her violin, of course. On days where the ache of loneliness would not flee, she reminded herself that her mother was still with her, and always would be, even if it was only in the color of her hair, or the memory of her humming.

When Allison did not move, Vanya cleared her throat. Allison didn’t jump, Vanya didn’t expect her to, but Vanya took some satisfaction in seeing the goosebumps rise on Allison’s arms.

“Could I use your restroom?” Allison asked abruptly.

“Oh yeah, it’s right there,” Vanya walked Allison to the door, and opened it wide for her - they kept it closed to preserve what little space there was. Allison thanked her and then slipped into the room. Without much else to occupy herself with, Vanya wandered back to her father, who was digging around in the fridge. As usual, food was sparse - she had a feeling it would be another carb-heavy night. Vanya stepped up on the folding step stool they had, and dug around in the cabinets, emerging with a box of pasta that she handed off to her father. He placed it on the table as she rooted around for some sauce to go with it.

“She seems nice,” he said, after a beat.

“She does,” Vanya said, for lack of anything more concrete to say. Spoiling Allison’s tendency to manipulate those around her seemed like a topic better left unsaid.

“I’m glad you’re making friends, Vanya.” He smiled at her, resting his hand on her still mussed hair. Despite being on the step stool, she was still so much shorter than her father. “I know moving hasn’t made making friends easy on you, but I’ve always hoped that we could make a more permanent residence. And look! You’ve made friends already.” He patted her, once, twice, then withdrew his hand. “And it looks like you’ve made more than just friends, if I can believe Allison’s interpretation of events.”

Vanya pinkened, scowling as her father let out a belly shaking laugh. In what she hoped was a haughty imitation of all the teenage girls she’d seen on snippets of television shows, she flounced away, back over to her tree lamp to wait for Allison. She listened to her father as he muttered to himself in the kitchen, gathering up ingredients to start working on dinner. What was taking her so long anyways?

When Allison finally emerged from the bathroom, Vanya lept up from her chair. Allison cleared the living room and came to stand next to her.

“You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Vanya blinked, stupefied at the sudden, aggressive tone of voice Allison adopted. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll be moving in regardless. Wouldn’t it be better to deal with it now?”

Of all the…! “Dad?” Vanya yelled.

“Yes?” He popped his head up from where he’d been crouched, locating their pots in the cupboards built into the island.

“Allison can’t stay for dinner. I’m going to see her out, okay?”

Allison opened her mouth, her brows furrowed, ready for an argument but Vanya was quicker. “You’ll be back soon, won’t you Allison?”

For a moment, Vanya wondered if Allison would be stupid enough to use her powers on her, or worse, her father. Allison seemed to contemplate it for a moment. What would Vanya do if she did?

Thankfully, she didn’t have to find out.

“Thank you for having me over.” Allison bowed her head. “I hope you’ll have me over again soon.”

“Of course! Our apartment is always open to Vanya’s friends.”

Allison thanked him once more, before Vanya steered her out the door. As they clomped down the stairs of the apartment complex, Vanya keeping a watchful eye on Allison as she lead the way. Once they stepped outside, Allison whirled on her heel.

“What are you doing?”

“The better question is, what are you doing? We never discussed talking to my dad about moving in!” she snapped.\

“What would be better - treating a wound right after you get it? Or waiting till infection sets in to treat it?” Allison twirled a lock of hair around her finger, but her gaze was no less intense despite the frivolous habit. “One is going to be painful, but manageable, and one will have you writhing in pain. You take your pick.”

“You don’t get to make decisions for me.”  
  
“Even if I make better ones for you than you do for yourself?”

“Is that your problem? That you think you’re doing me a favor?” Vanya stalked close to Allison. “Well, you’re not. We’re not using your powers on my dad, and we’re not manipulating him into letting me stay at the Academy. You heard your dad - I have until the end of the month. And I intend on fully using that month.”

“And you believe him?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not a nice man. Whatever you may think of me, and what I’m doing, you have to know - he’s behind it all. He’s not giving you a month to sort this out to be kind - he’s doing it to force your hand. If you’re blind to that fact, then he’s going to eat you alive, and your dad will be collateral damage.”

Vanya shook where she stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Allison.”

For once, Allison didn’t have anything left to say. Vanya watched her until she could no longer see her shadowy figure, and even after, she found herself rooted to the spot.

\-------

Hazel reached out to the tube and extracted the bottle, fumbling with the latching mechanism. Damned wrist braces. He finally pulled the message in the bottle out, and frowned at the assortment of numbers neatly typed in the middle of the page. The Commission's obsession with old age tech was nothing new, but as Hazel recognized the string of numbers for what they really were, he had to fight back surprise at the sudden modernness. He stood and made his way to the home phone mounted on the wall by the front door. With Vanya and her little “friend” out in the alleyway saying their goodbyes, he felt confident in maintaining the proper amount of privacy a call of such a nature needed. He used his index finger and rotated through the circle of numbers, cursing the fact that he had let Vanya talk him into a rotary phone, in of all colors, a bright cherry red. But he had always been soft when, crestfallen, she would pout and ask no more, and he would cave like the softie Cha Cha had accused him of being all those years ago. Vanya’s happiness made it all worth it - even though the phone was still _tacky_.

He reached the final digit after a couple of fumbles - for an assassin, he could admit to himself he was clumsy as hell with the damn phone dial - and heard a voice on the other end telling him she would connect him straight to the Handler.

Damn, a direct line to the Head Bitch herself? He stifled the urge to whistle lowly to himself at the turn of events, too worried she would pick up and chew him out. He didn’t fear much in life, but a pissed off Handler was not one to trifle with, and he had the scars to back that up.

“Mission report.”

Hazel sucked in a breath through his nose. With her voice, came the sudden shift, the world plunging into eerie silence- she’d stopped time from moving, keeping him and him alone unfrozen.

“At approximately six o’ clock, Vanya returned home with a classmate in tow, an Allison Hargreeves.” On the other end of the line, the Handler released a high pitched noise, but otherwise remained silent, so Hazel pressed on, uncertain of how best to approach this conversation. Phone calls and direct communication had not been part of any of his missions. “Approximately five foot five, slim but muscular build, African-American, with a tendency to lie. She explained that her and Vanya had met in the school’s band, but Allison lacked the necessary calluses in order to properly play the instrument she said she was proficient in, and Vanya refused to expand upon the lie.” His little girl really was garbage at lying - that innocent face of hers broadcasted every single emotion she felt, and he loved her all the more for it. “When Allison realized that Vanya would not lie for her, she switched tactics to butter me up, and instead mentioned a boy named Ford, trying to incite a father like reaction of anger to deviate from the failed lie, and to fluster Vanya.”

The Handler hummed in a contemplative way, cutting off Hazel’s report. “You said the name was Ford?”

“Yes ma’am. Allison may have been lying about his name as well, but the existence of such a person is not in doubt - Vanya kept shushing her, and it was a genuine reaction.” He would need to talk to her about boys - there was no need to get close to any in the immediate future, even if he was happy she was happy. She had bigger and better things coming her way.

As to why the Handler would care...well, that Hazel could not figure out, but he knew better than to ask. Her behavior and the need for a phone call instead of a typed message clearly indicated something bigger going on and it somehow connected to this Allison and boy in some form.

“Interesting, interesting. Did this Allison seem to think the connection between Vanya and this Ford to be romantic in nature?”

“That is what it appeared to me that she was hinting at,” Hazel answered, caution making him wary. One did not simply become the Handler by shitting sunshine and rainbows, after all.

“Always full of surprises, that Vanya. Anyways, do continue on, I don’t have all night.”

“Of course. From there, the two girls silently bickered about this Ford, and left the kitchen, where we had been congregated. Vanya showed Allison around the apartment and they started to argue again, which is very unlike Vanya. They kept their distance, and were whispering, so I was unable to hear what they were arguing about. Allison walked over to me and started to open her mouth but Vanya cut her off and dragged her out of the apartment. They are still outside, talking at this very moment.” Hazel twirled the curly cord in his finger, hoping that his explanation of the events that had just gone down would please his notoriously unappeasable boss. “To add to the already odd circumstances of this visit, it appears that Allison has taken Vanya shopping for high end bathing suits.” While Hazel knew next to nothing about the popular and trendy clothing stores of today, he could spot the kind of money attached to a brand with such a lavish bag, and when he had thumbed through the receipts, his head had spun at the sheer price tag for one of the suits, never mind two. What the two girls were up to, he could not begin to fathom.

“The girls mentioned nothing of this to you?”

“Negative.”

“I see. Is that all you have to report to me, Hazel?”

“Vanya mentioned another boy, Alex, but she didn’t seem as secretive about him as she did Ford. She was very upfront about his existence.”

“Is that so? Your dear little Vanya, sure is growing up then. Anything else to report?”

“ At the moment, no Ma’am.”

“Excellent. Good work as usual, Hazel.” There was a pause, and then the Handler spoke again, “For the time being, I will be cutting back on your hours out in the field. You will be stationed at home, and you will give me a report via this number every night after your precious girl goes to bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Remain vigilant.”

Hazel didn’t have a chance to reply before the Handler hung up on him, restoring time back to its normal flow. He shook his head and remounted the phone back on the hook before folding himself into one of the kitchen bar stools. He scrubbed a hand across his face and pointedly ignored the elephant in the room.

He had a lot to think about.

\-------

Allison wanted more than anything to flee to the safety and confines of her room, exhaustion hanging around her like a dark cloud, but as soon as she stepped foot back into the Academy, Pogo found her, a miserable sort of twist to his face. He probably found it placating, but it just fueled the temper she was stewing in. She twisted her hands into fists.

“Your father wishes to see you in his study, Miss Allison.”

She released a whiny breath of air and stretched her hands. “Thanks Pogo,” she muttered.

He dipped his head at her and then darted away, heading towards the staircase that lead to his room in the otherwise empty basement. This late at night, the rest of her siblings were sprawled out across their bedrooms, enjoying their last few moments of freedom. With the long weekend coming up, training would resume just as brutally as it had before Vanya’s entrance, and none of them were looking forward to the hours of grueling training and competition looming over them. Five probably had his nose buried in his half completed equations, Ben and Klaus were likely up to no good, and Diego and Luther were off bickering, no doubt, if Diego hadn’t been roped into whatever Klaus was doing. At least that brought a smile to her face, albeit briefly, as she stopped at the threshold.

“Enter, Number Three!”

Allison stepped into her father’s office and came to a halt in front of his desk. Out of all the rooms in the manor, she felt a particular sense of hatred for this one, and she had to force herself not to lock her mouth into a mulish frown. She remembered the countless attempts to con her father into looking up from his research to say goodnight to them, and the sting of rejection hadn’t dulled with the slow crawling passage of time.

He looked up from his damned journal and focused his attention solely on her. His dead, cold fish eyes held the weight of their world in them.

“Mission Report.”

Allison sucked in a breath, and brought her hands behind her, clasping her wrist with her other hand, and then widened her stance. After years of practice, the perfect stance was ingrained in her. But as she started to speak she came up blank. The events of the past few hours had enlightened her far beyond her expectations when she’d first been consulted with on the details of her mission, and sorting through every valuable piece of information felt like such an enormous task. But, as she noticed her father glare at her from behind his cracked monocle, she forced herself to speak, praying for her normal coherency to grace her once again.

“Vanya and I selected and purchased a swimsuit as promised. She wished to split apart from there, but I coerced her into letting me walk her home. When we reached her apartment, I talked her into letting me inside, and her father was there, having returned home from work.”

Her father, poised and ready to write, pen already touching the paper, said, “Details, child, details?”

“Tall. Taller than Luther even. Wide set, and kinda plain, brown slightly curly hair and matching facial hair, dressed in a cheap suit. He had wrist braces on and he kept fiddling with them. He muttered to himself about how no one cared about how much weight he had to carry by himself.” She thought back on his appearance and couldn’t remember much other than that - he really wasn’t remarkable in that sense. “He introduced himself as Hazel.”

The pen stilled. “You said Hazel?”

She frowned, but gave her confirmation.

He paused for a second, then shook himself off, and waved his free hand at her, “Go on, go on!” he snapped. “What else did you observe?”

“They are poor,” Allison said bluntly. “Almost nothing they own is brand new, everything was second hand or in otherwise rough shape. The apartment is only a single room with a bathroom, so you can see everything in sight if you walk around a bit. Nothing was very memorable.” Allison paused, then trudged on. “Except for Vanya’s violin, the only thing of worth in there was a fireproof safe.” Oh, Allison had felt like she’d hit the jackpot with that discovery. It had been hard to contain her whoops of joy - until the unsettling reality of what the meant had startled her into action. “It was built into a nook in the wall in the bathroom. It wouldn’t have been noticeable to people without the proper training, but I don’t think Hazel was expecting company and didn’t hide it properly. Vanya probably glosses right over it.”

“Were you able to see the contents of the safe?” he asked sharply.

Allison shivered. “No. There was a code to enter. I didn’t have enough time to try to crack it with Vanya and her father there.”

“Why did you not use your powers then, Number Three?”

“Vanya didn’t want me to. I know, I know,” she cried, as he sat up straighter, clearly gearing himself up to chastise her, “but don’t we want her to be part of the team? To get along with us? I tried to use them on him to have her move in sooner and she threw a fit! She threatened to use her powers on me if I used mine on her dad.” She reached up to twirl her hair with a finger, and then promptly shoved her hand back down, remembering his distaste for such frivolous habits. “I can’t protect myself against her powers, and even if I could, she’s never going to trust us if we use our powers against her.”

He seemed to mull over what she said, casting his gaze across the numerous junk items that littered his desk. “You raise a fair point, Number Three. We need Number Seven’s cooperation and trust. You did the right thing.”

Why did his praise feel so empty to her?

“Did you see a briefcase anywhere?”

Allison scoured her mind, thinking back. There were not many storage options in the small place, just a few cubbies here and there, mostly for Vanya’s stuff. Nothing large enough to stow away a briefcase large enough for a man of Hazel’s stature. “I did not see one.”

“Very well. Was there anything else of value you noted? Anything that would be important to our goals?”

Allison paused, before speaking up. “There are lots of photos of Vanya’s mother on the wall. She was...very young.”

“She was sixteen when she gave birth to Number Seven, I was already privy to this information. What is your point, Number Three?”

“Well…” Allison bit her lip. “There aren’t many photos of Hazel and Vanya’s mother together. It’s either her and Vanya or Vanya and Hazel. And the one where Hazel is with Vanya’s mother....it was taken when Vanya was still young, maybe only two or three...and he looks exactly the same as he does now, over ten years later.”

What would a young teen have seen in someone so much older than them? A sixteen year old and a thirty something year old? Someone who had stumbled upon the fountain of youth? Was Hazel like them, then? Someone extraordinary?

“I have taken your observations down, Number Three. Now, if that is all, you should be on your way to bed. Training continues tomorrow.”

Allison ducked her head as he said, “Dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, I meant to have this chapter up months ago...my bad.
> 
> In all seriousness, thank you so much for all the feedback on this fic <3 I am so glad that ya'll enjoyed Hazel being Vanya's dad and I hope you are still invested in their relationship, because it's going to be a big part of this fic. I really can't tell you how much all of your comments and kudos mean to me. Please tell me how you think Allison is shaping up as a character or anything else you have to share! I relish in all the comments.


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